Masks
by Gecco
Summary: Years after the events of the War of the Ring, someone is trying to help destroy Gondor, but they need the plans to the city to do it. There's a traitor in the court and they have captured one of the King's companions. Deception, torture, anarchist and pa
1. Chapter 1

Title: Masks

Rating: R

Warning: Angst and descriprions of torture.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profet off this. All characters, places and things, with the exception of a few OC belong to J.R.R Tolkien.

Notes: This is actually pretty old and has been cluttering up my computer, so I thought I would go ahead and post it. Originally this started as a plot-bunny, inspired by some talk on Axe-Bow and a few scenes from "Blade of the Immortal" manga. I've since named it and done some minor tweaking of it.

* * *

Masks

* * *

It was a time of peace and prosperity. The hard won war was over, the One Ring destroyed, the gapping wounds of war where almost healed, now was a time of renewal and growth over all the western lands.

In the gleaming city of Gondor, in one of the grand echoing halls of the palace, a spindly built Man of rather small height calmly walked. His thin arms full of various parchments and scrolls, back from an errant for the important official he worked for.

All those in the palace knew him simply as Enriten, but what they didn't know was that his real name was actually Rabryn. He was a very nondescript Man with dark thinning hair that framed a plain face that was over looked in a crowd and just as easily forgotten. He was dressed in dark robes of grey and brown, befitting his station as the aid to Aaddrunye. Who in turn was one of the King's top advisers, second only to the head Magistrate and the acting Steward, Faramir, youngest son of the late Denethor. All around he was the type of Man no one paid attention to, being near invisible to most… and that was the way he liked it.

As his clicking foot steps echoed smartly against the white and grey veined marble floors, he let his gaze look out one of the large balconies to his left as he walked by. A cool refreshing breeze momentarily ruffling his thin hair as warm sunlight beamed through to spill and reflect off the polished floors and walls. The view through the balcony was truly spectacular, with the majesty of Gondor spread out before the window as well as the surrounding plains and the smoky mountains standing guard in the distance.

The ancient city was once again beautiful, shinning in all its glory, thanks to the new King and the help of his companions. While the new King and his Elvin Queen brought back a deep pride and created an atmosphere of peace and majesty. The Dwarves, under the direction of the King's Dwarven companion, rebuilt Gondor anew. Fixing its wounds and scars, making the city whole and stronger then ever before. As with the Dwarves, the Elves too, under another of the King's companions had made Gondor truly bloom again after years of sorrow and seeming drought, the gardens and trees grew lush and sweet smelling once again. The White Tree lived once more, abloom with blossomes and leaves, growing stronger with each passing year. The Elves weaved their magic to make the White City a crowning jewel once more, soothing the sorrow of all and seeming to heal the city's very soul.

But Enriten wouldn't allow himself the luxury of enjoying the view as he walked past, he still had his duties to perform. Not to mention keeping all his plans that he had finally set into motion in order. He also needed to check on his men and see how things were coming along with their guest…

He quickly put all these thoughts to the back of his mind as he rounded the corner to the next hall, once again putting on his practiced mask of 'scholarly, but clumsy servant'. He hunched his shoulders a bit and shuffled his feet, making his movements more jerky, the confident walk from just moments before having completely vanished. As he approached the massive carved doors leading to the main throne room, he gave a friendly greeting to the two armed and armored guards standing to either side of the massive doors. Making sure to clumsily drop a few scrolls as he did.

The two guards rolled their eyes as they watched Aaddrunye's assistant come scuttling around the corner towards them, then drop some of his armload when he stupidly tried to wave a greeting to them. This was not the first time they had seen Enriten in action. They then watched the mousy Man 'tisk' and babble to himself as he clumsily went about trying to pick up the dropped scrolls and in turn spilling a few more pieces of parchment to the floor before finally getting up again, almost tripping on his long robes. The two bored looking guards only snorted in amusement, well aquatinted with Aaddrunye's bumbling assistant. Without a word they opened the large doors for him and watched the thin assistant slip into the large and lavish throne room, carefully juggling his armload before the two guards closed it behind him.

As Enriten entered he could see that the meeting he had left earlier was still taking place between the King, his advisers and the huffing officials about various taxes, city policies and other such important things that need addressing to keep a city running smoothly. Long heavy tables had been set up before the King's great throne, the sound of scratching quills, the rustling of parchment and the murmur of talking echoed through the great hall. It was here that the group of advisers and officials sat as they wrote and went through their various papers and scrolls. All of them arguing and debating the various topics and laws.

For the most time the striking dark-haired King was silent, his heavy silver crown upon his head, his sharp grey-eyes speaking of great intelligence, many times speaking out only to sooth or call order when the arguments became too heated or convoluted. Every now and then the Steward, who stood at the King's left side, would lean over to say something in the King's ear or add his own thoughts to the various discussions. At the end of one of the long tables, nearest to one of the massive windows that lined the throne room on either side, sat Aaddrunye. Right where Enriten had left him earlier. Spotting him, he immediately went to the old advisor's side.

Aaddrunye was a heavyset Man with wiry grey hair and beard, both of which he kept immaculately clean and clipped, who always wore long deep burgundy and brown robes befitting his station and occupation as adviser. He was wise and surprisingly kind, though he did not suffer foolishness gladly and suffered from a rather sever 'sweet-tooth', evident by his bulging waistline. He had been one of Denethor's advisors, before the late Steward's death and with Faramir's backing and recommendation, he took up his old job and was now one of King Elessar's advisors. Aaddruny looked up from his note taking at Enriten's approach, praising the younger Man on his swift return, immediately plucking two particular scrolls from the smaller Man's arms.

It was then that Enriten noticed that there was another that had joined the meeting while he had been gone. He was mildly surprised to see none other then the King's Elven companion, the Prince of Mirkwood present at the Elessar's other side. The Wood-elf was quietly discussing something with both the King and the skeptical looking Lord Faramir. As Enriten watched from the corner of his eye, he could not help admire the beautiful being's presence as the three continued their heated whispering. Like that of Elessar's wondrous dark-haired Queen there was something almost frightening about their beauty, their kind always seeming to radiate a glow about them, filling any room, no matter how large with their mere presence. The very air around them seeming to become sweeter in their presence.

He hated that.

With his mask still firmly in place Enriten subtly watched as the dark-haired King rolled his eyes and waved off whatever the green clad archer had been hissing at him as he tried to look over a document that one of the politicians had brought forth. A moment later the acting Steward, Faramir adding to whatever the King had said, clearly in agreement with Elessar. Enriten wished he knew what they where speaking, but unfortunately did not speak Sindarin. Which of the room, aside from the Elf, only the King, Faramir and the King's advisors were fluent, including Aaddrunye. Whatever was said the tall blond-haired Elf clearly disagreed with their answer given the way it's flashing green eyes narrowed before turning sharply away from his companions to look out one of the large windows. Its' thoughts clearly troubled. Enriten watched the lithe archer unconsciously finger the long white knife at its side, before watching it stock away on silent feet to wonder about the cavernous throne room like a restless hunting cat. Enriten mussed to himself that if the Elf had a tail it would no doubt be lashing about behind him.

"I wonder what has the Lord of Ithilien so vexed?" he asked Aaddrunye, pretending ignorance as he stacked the parchment and scrolls on the cluttered table next to the old advisor. Even thought he had a pretty good idea for the Elf's agitation.

"Apparently he can not find his companion in the palace or anywhere else. Lord Gimli has consequently not been seen since yesterday morning," Aaddrunye said as he went over the contents of one of the scrolls, making changes to the parchment he had been writing on earlier.

"Perhaps he is somewhere in the city?" offered Enriten "I have heard that he and others of his race often frequent one of the taverns in the lower rings of the city."

"I too share those thoughts," agree Aaddrunye, still not looking up from his work.

Enriten gave an internal chuckle at hearing this, his plans were going perfectly. It would probably be another day before the King and the rest of the palace began to pay attention to the Elf's troubled thoughts and started to worry and look for the missing Dwarf.

_Surly that would be enough time…_

The meeting continued on for a few more hours, the slender Elf moving restlessly around the grand room, waiting for the meeting to conclude and soon Enriten himself lost track of him as played dutiful servant to Aaddrunye. Handing the older Man fresh quills and ink, passing him parchments and fetching anything else that was needed, including taking down notes for Aaddrunye when the other advisors or politicians got up and spoke.

Finally after several hours of arguments by some of the city officials and one interruption by a visit from Gondor's Elven Queen, who was heavy with child, the meeting was finally over. Old Aaddrunye still wanted to discuss some things with the King and a few of the other advisors so he dismissed him to go get something to eat and enjoy the rest of the day. But to make sure to come by his rooms before the evening meal to help transcribe some dusty tomes for the upcoming meeting with the Guild of Scholars tomorrow. Enriten gave a his proper thanks to Aaddrunye, then a deep respectful bow to the King and Steward before turning to leave the room.

He was almost to the door, his thoughts turned inward once again with his plans, when he froze. His heart seeming to halt in his chest as he suddenly found himself speared by a pair of luminous inhuman eyes of frightening beauty. There, leaning against one of the large pillars framing the doors was the Elf, who he had forgotten all about.

For a terrible moment he thought that he had somehow been found out as he watched the Elf's slender body stand up fully and step away from the pillar. That by some strange Elvish magic the blond archer knew, had somehow heard his very thoughts.

But luck was on Enriten side this day, for as soon as they had locked eyes it was over as the Elf turned it's flashing gaze elsewhere. Completely dismissing his presence before gliding past him, back to stand by the King's throne again. Enriten releases the breath he had been holding. _The Elf still knew nothing, just glaring at everyone and thing like an agitated cat, _he told himself He was safe_. They still knew nothing!_

Enriten didn't turn to see what the Elf was now saying to the King, not even particularly caring as he quickly made his exit through the large heavy doors. So in turn never saw the Elf's cool jade eyes look up and narrow as they silently watched him go.

Enriten quickly scrambled out the door, past the guards and down the hall before finally turning the corner and letting out a sigh of relief. For a moment that damned Elf seemed to look right into his very being. Giving himself an internal shake, he continued on to his quarters. When he reached his small and sparsely furnished room, he made sure to lock the door before quickly changing out of his ropes. He then went to the small wardrobe and pulled out some dark traveling clothes and a dark brown cloak. It was time to take a little trip to the first level of the city and see how his men were doing with their guest.

* * *

It was not long after slipping out of his room through one of the many secret passageways and out of the palace, that Enriten now rode down the congested main street through the various gates.

None paid attention, nor seem to take notice of the cloaked figure on the chestnut mare as he moved through the heavy traffic of the city. He now wore the dark traveling clothes and the concealing brown cloak as he made his unhurried way to the lowest level of the city. As he rode his manner was utterly different now, if any of the palace that knew him as 'Enriten' saw him now they would not have recognize him. For the thinly built Man now held himself with utter confidence, his once bumbling manner, now smooth, his face now cool and calculating. This was the true 'Enriten', not the timid, clumsy and scholarly assistant he pretended to be, but Rabryn. The anarchist, spy and all around man-for-hire when one wanted to take down a kingdom. Which was just what he was in the process of doing and for the moment no one was the wiser, not Aaddrunye, not the King, not the Elf or anyone else.

He had actually planned to do this long before when the city had still been under the then acting Steward, Denthore's tight control. These plans however had to be put on hold with the unexpected events during the War of the Ring. Then his original plans had to be utterly scrapped and he was forced to start over, thanks to the greatly unexpected return of the 'Heir of Isildur'. As well as the following restructuring of the inner workings of the palace and the very structure of the city itself. If he wanted Gondor to be an easy conquest for his mysterious backers he needed the plans of the city, to know where all it's weaknesses where and all the secret ways into the city and palace were hidden.

Enriten didn't know precisely who had hired him, not even particularly caring, besides in his line of work one was not paid to know who their employers were as long as they got paid. All he did know about his backer was that he was an up and coming general in the Haradrim military, who was looking for an easy way to clime ever higher and gain the much needed and desired respect of his fellows. And what a perfect way to cement one's bid for power then to conquer the seemingly unconquerable White City of the free western lands?

It was forty minuets later when Enriten past the final gate to the last level and kicked his horse into a trot as he steered her off to a less congested stone laden street to the right of the main road. He made his quick way through one of the poorer neighborhoods that stood mostly in the shadow of the mountain that the city nestled against. The crowds and foot traffic dramatically dropped off the closer to the mountain he got until he had finally came to a large open area scattered with only a few small buildings. The seemingly deserted area ended where it meet the rough and steep side of the mountain, it was further blocked off by the high guarding wall dividing the city from the open and vast plains, which was directly opposite of the massive dividing wall of the next level that rose above him. Hardly any people lived in this area, it being mostly used to house extra lumber, stone, gravel and other such building supplies for the city.

He continued into the area directing his mount to a simple structure that stood almost directly beside the steep face of the mountain, where a few other structures were scattered nearby. He had specially chosen this location because it was close to the Palace but far enough away that few would notice the various activities going on in one of the small buildings and fewer still who might hear a tortured scream.

Even if any of the locals did hear anything, Enriten knew that they were not likely to say anything. Besides, even if one did, who would listen to the hurried babblings of some simple peasant?

He was quite pleased with himself, everything was going smoothly as planned. With any luck his Men had already gotten the information he needed from the Dwarf and he could move on to the next phase of his plans. As he continued to make his way to the small structure, the whistle of wind and the loud clop of his horses hooves filled his ears. He frowned as he admitted to himself of at least one bump in his plans. He hadn't expected the Dwarf's absence to be noticed so early. He had not thought the Elf would come out of it's trance-like state so soon.

_Surly the Elf wasn't some how connect to the Dwarf in someway?_

But he quickly dismissed those thoughts, accounting this unexpected bump in his plans as purely a fluke and bad luck on his part. The fact was that only a few knew of the Lord Legolas' strange boughts of 'sea illness'. Of course non had told him personally, but people do talk and nothing spreads faster then a secret and rumors always had a way of sneaking into people's ears. To add to that, the Steward Faramir and his Lady the fair Eowyn regularly talked to one another out in one of the Queen's gardens, sitting under one of the lovely willow trees. Enriten was a very observant person and prided himself on having sharp ears. It was not difficult to ease-drop every now and then on their conversations.

It had been one of these times, that he just 'happened' to be walking by, when he learned of the Lord Legolas' boughts of 'sea-longing'. The Lady Eowyn was apparently worried for Elf and how he would occasionally fall into a strange state for hours, sometimes even days, seeing and hearing things only he could see. Leaving all those who loved him to worry and simply wait for his return. It was apparently particularly worrying of late that the Wood-elf had been having longer boughts then normal, it was now not uncommon for him to fall under the 'sea-logging' for a day or more. These episodes were usually followed by the Elf wanting to be alone with his own thoughts, either in his rooms or in one of the gardens. He had apparently on two occasions even left the city altogether. No one knowing where he went, the Wood-elf insisting that he needed time to himself, leaving with only his horse as company. The King and Queen suspected it was to the ocean, to stand on the beach and stare out at the calling waves. It was not long after hearing this that a plan began rolling into motion in Enriten's head.

Up until now the Elf and Dwarf seemed to be attached at the hip and that had been where his problem had previously been. For his plans to succeed, he needed the Dwarf and that did _not_ include the Elf. With this interesting news of Lord Legolas' strange affliction, Enriten saw a wonderful opportunity for the next stage of his mission.

After that it was not hard to observe the various goings-on of the palace, of figuring out about how long the Elf's trance like states usually lasted. Of following the Dwarf on it's wanderings and learning of it's and others of it's kinds preference for a small cheerful tavern on the third level of the city. Finding out that this was where the Dwarf usually went when the Elf needed it's time to be alone. After that, formulating a trap was easy.

Now he himself would never even dream of getting his own hands dirty, he left the physical work and other unpleasant tasks to others. His way was one of intellect, he was the brains, the one to orchestrate things. Which was precisely why he had hired six Men to carry out his next plans, Men that cared nothing for anyone but themselves and the right amount of gold.

Giving all of them careful and strict instructions, along with a few special darts coated with a deadly poison. The trap was set. The poison would not kill the Dwarf, their race being particularly immune to most sicknesses and poisons, but it would cause it to become dizzy and disoriented before falling unconscious for awhile. It was not difficult to find a Woman in the city to play the part of damsel in distress and be the bait for his carefully laid trap. A full bag of gold coins guarantied her silence to what she would participate and see.

Now he himself had not been present at the Dwarf's capture the day before. Having to keep up his cover and be present at Aaddruny's side as the old Man held a debate with a few of the other advisors in one of the special conference rooms in the palace. But he had left instructions to the Men to contact him if they were unsuccessful; as of yet he had received no such word. So he assumed all had gone as planned.

He finally reached the small structure and climbed off his mount, looping her reins on a convenient post. He pushed back the hood of his cloak then turned and walked to the simple building, taking note of the tired looking nag still hooked up to a small cart on the other side of the building. There was also another horse, this one in desperate need of a thorough brushing, standing miserably next to the old nag, still saddled. Not a few steps away was a heavy set Man with dirty-blond hair, his back to him, urinating against the side of the building. The large Man, who was clearly of Rohirrim decent, finally finished and tucked himself away before noticing the new arrival, looking momentarily surprised before lifting his dirty hand in acknowledgment. Enriten arrogantly snorted to himself and rolled his eyes, _the simpletons one was forced to deal with these days!_

With that he opened the simple wooden door that creaked loudly on its rusty hinges and walked into the small two roomed building, the large Man from outside following him in. The building was really more of a shed with a dirt floor, that had once been used to store supplies and tools. The interior was dark and uncomfortably hot, the heavy air smelling of sweat and the metallic scent of blood. There were no windows, with only one door leading outside and one open doorway leading to the second room. The interior of the first room was lit only by two candles casting shadows and illuminating the sparse interior and the small group of Men either sitting or standing around the simple room. There was also a large lump laying against one of the walls, covered in a bloodstained blanket. _That had better not be the Dwarf_, Enriten growled to himself.

As he continued to look around he also noticed for the first time that there was quite a lot of drying blood on the dirt floor, looking back he saw that it tracked through from outside as well.

The shear amount of blood on the floor was worrisome, he hoped the Men hadn't gotten too carried away. He needed the Dwarf alive! Had something gone wrong when they captured the Dwarf, perhaps they had killed it before they could even get the information from it? His gut twisted at the thought, the thought of having to start over again.

The heavy set Man that had followed him in came to stand by a shorter lanky Man with dark hair and a sever hook nose, leaning against one of the walls. The other Man, who sat on a crate on the opposite wall, was bald with sun-dried leathery skin, who's face gave new meaning to the term "pug-ugly".

"Bout time you showed up," snorted the lanky Man, glaring at him through his medium length hair. Enriten didn't bother to acknowledge what the other Man said as he looked around and noticed that of the seven Men he had hired, he saw only three before turning his main attention back to the lump under the blood soaked blanket.

"That had better not be the Dwarf under there," he said in an ominous voice, flashing a piercing glare at the lanky dark-haired Man, who called himself Lars. Lar's posture stiffened and he pushed away from the wall, a confused look passing over his long face.

"Wha-? The Dwarf?" he said in clear confusion, watching his small employer sharply motion to the blood-soaked blanket on the floor before comprehending what Enriten was talking about. "Oh… No, no. That's Odren, the Dwarfs' is in the other room." As he said this he walked over to the lump and squatted down, pulling back the stained blanket for Enriten to see. The other Men in the room quickly turned away, not wanting to see the sight under the blanket.

What Enriten saw was one of the Men he had hired, laying dead and cold on the dirt floor. Grey eyes staring dry and vacantly at nothing, the corpse's skin clammy and sickly pale. But what immediately grabbed his attention however was the body's right arm, which was missing from the elbow down. What remained of it was hideously bruised and mangled.

He only raised an eyebrow at the sight, _well that explained the blood_. He then watched Lars thrown the soiled blanket back over the body before getting up and moving into the next room. That also explain the whereabouts of at least one Man , but what of the others?

"Where are the others?" Enriten asked, voicing his thoughts as he strolled after Lars and into the second room. This one was also lit by a few candles but it also had a small lit hearth in the far wall. As he looked around he took perticular notice of some long thick nails glowing amid the hot embers, a heavy pair of tongs lay forgotten nearby, as well as some other nasty looking implements. The air in this room was near stifling and he felt himself already begin to sweat, he also noticed that there was a strange smell in the air, like the smell of burnt flesh. Around the room there where various crates and dusty tools stacked and piled in the corners and along the walls, as with the first room there were no windows in here either.

It was in the center of the room that three thick heavy posts had been driven deeply into the dirt floor, the middle post was closest with the other two flanking it in a V formation. It was here that their captive was tied, it knelt on the floor with it's back against the thick middle post, it's broad muscular arms were held out and back to either side. It's thick wrists shackled with chains connecting to either post, firmly holding it in place. He noticed that there were also many thick ropes along with the heavy chains around it's wrists and around the outer posts, someone had also tied some rope around the Dwarf's thighs and upper calves, forcing it to stay in a kneeling position.

He was a bit surprised at the amount of ropes and chains that bound the stocky being, surly the Men were being a bit over-cautious. As for the Dwarf it's self, a long mane of thick hair obscured the creature's face, it's head hanging forward. It wore only a pair of dark trousers and a simple green sleeveless shirt, that had been ripped in several places, the rest of it's clothes having been stripped from it. The Men had clearly not been idol in their torturing, for he could see many bruises and cuts on the Dwarf's body, including several nails that had been driven into the flesh of it's thighs. The material and skin around the nails looking burnt, he quickly surmised that that was the cause of the 'burnt meat' smell from before. He also saw that it's finger tips were bloody from someone having driven slender wedges of wood under the nails of both its large hands.

He came to stand by Lars as the lanky Man glared down at the fettered creature. "Morhan is right there," he said pointing to a nervous looking Man with brown curly hair that sat on a crate in a corner of the room, as far away from the captive as possible. Enriten noticed that the nervous looking Man cradled one of his hands, which was covered in blood soaked bandages, to his chest as he slightly rocked. The curly haired Man immediately looked up with wide eyes as they came into the room and the other two Men followed Lars and Enriten into the room a moment later.

"I always make sure that someone is in here to keep an eye on him," Lars continued, motioning to the captive. "As for Gwullyn and Helric, their dead too. Same as Odren, back there."

Enriten gave a tired sigh at the news and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thin fingers. "I told you to only engage the Dwarf 'after' you hit him with the dart and to make sure his didn't have any weapons!" he said as if taking to a group of very stupid children.

"We did! We done everything you told us! He was stumbling around like a drunk after Lar's hit him with the dart and the bloody-bastard wasn't even carrying an axe when we ambushed him!" yelled the bald Man, speaking up for the first time and showing a mouth that was missing some teeth.

"Iye! You didn't tell us how strong these fucking creatures are," snarled the heavy set blond Man. Who got up from where he had taken a seat earlier near the entrance and stomped over and gave the Dwarf a kick in the ribs, causing it to grunt and bare it's teeth with a low hiss.

"He killed Gwullyn and Helric with his bare hands! Snapped Gwullyn's neck, then smashed Helric's head, poor bastard's brains be splattered all over that alley wall. Odren then tried to grab him from behind, but when the Dwarf got it's hands on em', he just twisted Odren's arm off! Poor bastard was screaming like a wraith-- we managed to get him back here, but he died anyway… Lost too much blood I think. It was everywhere!" he concluded with a sad shake of his head.

Enriten was clearly annoyed by what he heard, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "I don't care about excuses!" he growled.

"Did you hear what I just said? That thing ripped off his arm!" yelled the large Man again. Now red-faced as he glared incredulously at the small thinly built Man, who only turned to look at him like one would a mentally deficient child. "Like a piece of cooked chicken!" The heavyset Man added, spit flying from his mouth as he jabbed a pudgy finger at their bound captive.

No one saw the smirk that past over the Dwarf's lips, his face still hidden from view as he quietly listened to the Men talk.

_Well that explained all the extra chains and ropes_, Enriten mussed to himself as he looked down once again at their unmoving captive.

"Shut your mouth, Hesphyn," Lars finally said with a grimace, from his spot next to Enriten. The image still a little too fresh in everyone's minds. Hesphyn only grumbled some more and walked over and flopped back onto his seat. Enriten, ignored the heavy set and turned his attention to their captive, not really caring what happened to any of these Men, as long as he got what he wanted.

"Well now, what have we here? The famed Gimli, son of Gloin, honored hero of the War of The Ring and trusted friend of King Elessar," Enriten said coming to stand before the prisoner.

He watched as the captive slowly raised it's head and he finally got a good look at the being's bloody and bruised face. Enriten's small eyes widened at what he saw, for the Dwarf's face was shockingly smooth and devoid of any facial hair. The creature's once prided and immaculately cared for beard was gone. Leaving a clear view of a surprisingly handsome and tanned face with high cheekbones, a small nose, as well as an unobstructed view of a pair of plump lips and a strong powerful jaw. Its bottom lip was split, with ugly purple bruising along his cheek and around his left eye as well as a trail of dried blood from it's mouth and down it's chin. He also saw that there were two deep cuts running along the right side of it's jaw, he quickly surmised that the cuts probably happened when they had shaved the Dwarf's face earlier. At the sight of him those large eyes narrowed in recognition and he watched as it's lips curled back to bare its straight white teeth as a deep and frightening growl filled the air.

The Dwarf looked a lot like a Man, though of short stature, yet there was something inhuman about it's face, the very structure of it. But mostly it was in it's eyes, those large burning brown eyes. Like the Elf, there was just something 'alien' about them. Enriten felt a small thrilling little shiver run up his spine, _how many beings in all of Arda had ever seen this? Seen what truly lay behind a Dwarf's beard?_

"I must say, I'm rather disappointed. I was hoping you were going to be quite ugly without all that beard. From all the stories and the way those Elvish dignitaries described your kind I thought you would be quite hideous," he said with a chuckle, watching those dark glittering eyes narrow. "Hmph! Surprise, surprise," he said as he turned to look at Lars.

"I had Morhan, give our friend here a shave before he woke up." The lanky Man said with a harsh laugh as he crossed his long arms over his chest as he looked down at the captive with a smirk. "I always wanted to see what one of these creatures looked like without all that damned hair. Now I got my answer!" he snorted. "Sides', I like to be able to see every flinch and grimace on my subjects face when I'm 'working'."

Morhan, who was still sitting in the corner, blue eyes narrowed at Lars. Noticing that the lanky Man failed to mention how the Dwarf had suddenly awoken and had promptly bitten off three of Morhan's fingers before he could jerk his hand back. Luckily for all of them they had had the presence of mind to have chained and bound the Dwarf earlier, while it was still unconscious. Since that incident Morhan had staunchly refused to get any closer to the Dwarf, bound or not.

"What have you learned so far?" Enriten asked, deciding to get down to business as he started to reach into his tunic for a small note book and stick of charcoal.

The room seem to get very quiet then as all the Men suddenly seem to look everywhere but at him.

"Well?" He urged the group, looking around at all of them and getting a bad feeling. His hand still halfway into his tunic, pausing as he waited for one of them to answer. _Surly after all this time they had gotten most of the information he needed out of the Dwarf_…

Finally after several more moments of silence, Lars cleared his throat and spoke. "Uh… Nothing as of yet."

"What?" Enriten yelled, his eyes going wide as he yanked his hand out of his tunic, both hands now balling into tight fists at his sides.

"It sure ain't for lack of trying!" Mumbled the ugly baldheaded Man, from where he leaned against the wall fanning himself with one of his dirty gnarled hands. Morhan from across the room shook his head in agreement.

"Why did we have to get this one again?" He asked as he glared at the brooding Dwarf while he unconsciously rubbed at his heavily bandaged hand. The constant ache of his three missing fingers paining him greatly.

"Yah! Why couldn't we have kidnapped that pretty Elf instead, eh? We could have had a lot more fun with that one, if ya know what I be meaning," Snickered Hesphyn with a slimy grin, a lecherous gleam in his light-blue eyes. His grin only got bigger as he watched the Dwarf turn it's head to murderously glare at him with a deep rumbling growl, before spitting in disgust at the heavyset Man's feet. It's thoughts made clear to all.

"Because you blithering idiot! King Elessar would notice within an hour of his disappearance- or any other Elf's disappearance for that matter." He snorted. "We'd already have half the city and the Gondor's army out looking if one of Elessar's precious Elves went missing.

Most of all you Idiots, is that the damned Elf didn't help repair and fortify the walls and gates! Did he? The Elf wouldn't know where the precise weaknesses are, all the secrete ways for an army to get into the city undetected!" he finally snapped as he began to furiously pace. _Must he do everything?_

The others remained silent, including the Dwarf as they watched the small Man pace quickly around the room, thinking furiously as he mumbled to himself. Finally his pacing slowed and he seem to calm down again before stopping and taking a few deep breaths. Seeming to get himself back together, he then walked over to the Dwarf again and squatted down, putting his face close to that of the Dwarf's. He didn't see how the other Men behind him shot one another knowing looks, Lars hurriedly motioning for the rest to be quiet as they smirked amongst themselves while they watched Enriten get closer to the captive.

"No, the Elf would be useless to us, but this one. Now this one here… this one is another story. You know where everything is. You and your kind help rebuild this city," He said, looking copper-haired Dwarf right in eye. "Don't you, Naugrim?"

He was however taken completely off guard by what happened next. He gave a yelp of surprise when the Dwarf suddenly lunged at him as far as it's bonds would allow. The ropes and chains groaning at the sudden force, managing to actually shake both the posts. It was only by pure luck that Enriten managed to throw himself back at the last second as sharp teeth snapped closed with a loud 'click' where his throat had been moments before.

He sat there on his rear end staring wide eyed at the Dwarf. "Traitor!" it roared in a deep voice, as it fought furiously against it's bonds.

The heavy posts shook ominously as the Dwarf thrashed against it's chains giving another angry and frustrated roar that seemed to shake the shed, the thick muscles in it's chest and arms rippling and bulging in a frightening show of barely contained strength. In the back of Enriten's mind a small voice deeply thanked Lars and the other men for so thoroughly binding the Dwarf earlier, he now wasn't sure if a simple set of chains could have held this creature.

It's bonds still stubbornly holding, the Dwarf seem to slowly calm again. "I will tell you nothing! Shit-worm!" it ground out between tightly clenched teeth, murder in it's eyes as it's struggles finally ceased.

Enriten, after a few deep breaths, managed to calm his racing heart and get up off the floor, noticing with irritation that none of the other Men in the room came over and offered him a hand up before turning to sneer down at the seething Dwarf. It's heavy breathing hissing out between it's clenched teeth at it glared up in disgust at him.

"I don't care how, just get me the information I need!" he yelled at the Men. The response he got was not the one he was hoping for however.

"I'm tired of beating him, beside he hasn't said anything since we started questioning him. Well except to curse us and our bloodlines," the heavyset Man wined as he wiped at his sweaty brow with his hairy arm.

"Nothing works, we haven't even gotten a good scream out of him yet!" the bald Man said in frustration, motioning to the wounds on the Dwarf that they had already inflicted.

"Lars did get a few tears out of him, when he drove those bits of wood under his finger nails though," Morhan added helpfully, Enriten on the other hand only angrily rolled his eyes.

"Why did I even bother highering you lot for?" He exploded, before turning his focus on Lars who was still standing next to him. "I thought you said you could make anyone talk-- that you were the best this side of Mordor!" yelled Enriten, but Lars was apparently at his own limits and snapped right back at the smaller Man.

"Listen you piece of troll dung! If I had five-- six days. There are ways! Better ways!" Lars snapped back, throwing his hands up. "You gotta break'em in the head, not the body. Shit if I had time I--"

"Time is something we don't have, fool!" interrupted Enriten with a hiss, cutting him off with a sharp movement of his hand. Everyone fell silent as they watched the small Man begin to pace again, this time with his hands behind his back as he worried his top lip.

Enriten was in a perfect snit. If he couldn't get this information he would have to scrap his original plans and try and steal the actual documents from the palace treasury, which would be next to impossible. The only venue left open at the moment was to try and continue on with his original plans, perhaps the Dwarf only need some… stronger persuasion. He stopped pacing when his eyes alighted on a rusted and dusty axe amid the debris and tools in a shadowed corner of the room. Well if nothing else, he could guarantee himself a little satisfaction that the Dwarf would suffer for it's stubborn silence, even if he didn't get the information he needed.

The others watched as Enriten walked to a shadowed corner of the room where some piled crates and tools sat.

"Consider this a test," He said, bending down and picking something up. The others watched the Man turn around with a dirty and rusted wood-chopping axe now in hand as he walked back. All the Men had their attention to Enriten, so none saw the look of fear and utter hopelessness flash momentarily in Gimli's deep brown eyes at the site of the object in the traitor's hands. The irony was not lost on the Dwarf.

Enriten shoved the axe into Lars hands, then moved to stand right before the Dwarf again. "Use the blunt side," he said to Lars even as he stared arrogantly down at the prisoner, watching as that bruised and bloody face turned up. Looking into those blazing brown eyes, those inhuman eyes that glared back at him in utter contempt and defiance.

"We don't want him going into shock and dieing on us," He continued with a smirk even though he felt a bit disappointed at not seeing not even a flash of worry or fear in those glaring almond-shaped eyes.

With that he turned and walked towards the door way to the other room, the other Men watching him go.

"I'll be back tomorrow. If he doesn't talk…start breaking his fingers-- then his hands-- then his arms," he said over his shoulder.

"Hey Enriten?" Lars called after him, the axe still in hand.

"What?" The small Man snapped, pausing in the open doorway and turning to glare back at him.

"What do we do if he still doesn't talk?"

"Anything you want. What ever is left we can sell, I know of a few black-market traders here in the city that will pay good money for real Dwarf parts," he said, thinking that he could at least make a little profit from this, if nothing else.

With that Enriten stormed out of the small sweltering shed and slammed the door behind him. Cutting off the final sight of the bound Dwarf turning it's wary attention to the two humans that advanced on him with closed fists and heavy axe.

'

'

'

'

_I'll see if people are interested in me continuing. If not I'll go ahead and post my original ending._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Masks

Rating: R

Warning: This is very AU and deals with character death. Read with caution!

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. All characters, places and things, with the exception of a few OC belong to J.R.R Tolkien.

Notes: A big thanks to the lovely and evil Little My! Love ya!

Notes: Since I'm such a slow writer, I thought I would go ahead and post the original ending.

'

'

'

* * *

Unknown endings

* * *

The city of Gondor that had stood basking in the sunshine of the last week had strangely been set upon by unexpected rain, which was unusual this time of year. The once cheerful sky was overcast with heavy grey clouds, but the wet city below still stood proud and gleaming despite the pounding rain. A flutter of restlessness had fallen over the White City; in the palace a strange dread lurked in the grand halls, curling around the feet of all those residing there. Even the gardens seemed to have fallen into an anxious hush. 

Two days had come and gone and Lord Gimli's rooms remained empty. Save for one lithe Wood-elf that had slipped in several times, sometimes to sit silently on the bed and watch the door, other times to stand and look at the neatly laid out axes resting against the wall by the hearth, worriedly waiting for their owner's return.

At the moment the Lord of Ithilien lay unmoving on the large bed, curled on his side amongst the furs, his unblinking luminous green eyes gazing off out the glass doors leading to the large balcony and the grey sky beyond. Long pale fingers idly followed the lines of a simple bone and silver inlayed comb, a comb that did not belong to him. His thoughts were far away, but it was not due to the calling sea this time. His delicate pointed ears were filled not with the sound of crashing waves that seem strangely mute now, but instead with the sounds of memories.

Of heated arguments and long talks, of friendly teasing and sharp wit. Of laughter and poetry. Of soft words spoken in the shell of his ear and the sound of songs sung by a deep voice, in a secret language that was said to be harsh but instead made soothing and honeyed by the silver tongue that sang them.

The pale Elf could not explain it, but something deep inside of him felt as if it had been ripped away during the night. There was a void that had not been there the day before and a terrible ache that seemed to strum through his body with every beat of his heart.

_He was gone…_

At that same moment, on the other side of the palace in one of the small rooms provided for the servants and palace assistants, a thinly built Man took the opportunity to finally rest after two long trying days of burning anger and bitter disappointment.

Enriten tiredly flopped into the one stuffed chair that sat before the small hearth in his sparsely furnished room. The last remains of his dark traveling clothes and the brown concealing cloak burned in the hearth, and the small Man watched as the last bit of evidence of his dark deed went up in flames.

With a frustrated sigh he leaned his dark head against the back of the chair and glared up at the dark rafters of the ceiling. His plans had officially been scrapped; once again he would have to start over. Now he was going to have come up with some way to get a hold of the city plans from the heavily guarded treasury. Just how he was going to do that, he still had no idea. With that last despairing thought he closed his eyes with an irritated groan.

As he sat there, quietly listening to the cheerful hiss and pop of the fire, he slipped a hand into a fold of his robes and pulled out a sizable purse of gold coins. He felt a smirk pull up the corners of his thin mouth as he felt the heavy weight of it.

"Well, at least it wasn't a total loss," he chuckled to himself, his small eyes opening to look at the soft leather purse he held in his thin hand. "To think… this is all that remains of the once great Dwarf Lord, Gimli of the Nine Walkers… Not so great now!" He laughed and carelessly tossed the purse over his shoulder, hearing the heavy sound of it behind him as it landed on his narrow bed with a muffled clinking.

With a final amused snort he closed his eyes again and relaxed before the warm fire, his pale hands resting comfortably folded on his lap. He was dressed in his dark grey and brown robes, once again clad in his familiar mask of "Enriten", Aaddrunye's clumsy assistant that no one paid attention to.

As he dozed comfortably in his chair, he thought idly back to the last two days, when all his meticulously crafted plans came to nothing.

No matter what those fool Men he had hired tried, the damned Dwarf had remained defiantly and maddeningly silent. Oh, it had not remained totally silent— the sounds of utter agony that had been ripped from its throat had been truly deafening. But still, it had refused to tell them anything. By the end, they couldn't even get it to scream anymore.

Even in his half asleep state, Enriten felt himself give a shudder as he remembered the last time he had seen the Dwarf, its broken body laying in a bloody heap on the floor. The ropes and chains were undone, no longer needed— the Dwarf would never leave that dark miserable room. Lars and the rest of the Men had utterly given up; they couldn't even understand why the creature was still alive.

Enriten finally decided that there was just no point in going any further, and that left only one thing to be done. He stood over the sad figure sprawled on the sweat and blood- splattered dirt floor, its slow labored breathing coming in gurgling gasps. After a few long moments Enriten watched with some surprise as the crumpled figure stirred as if sensing his presence, and somehow managed to slowly turn its bloody face towards him.

The look in that dark inhuman gaze sent cold fingers racing up his spine as the Dwarf's one still functioning eye speared him with a look of pure hate. There was no hope in those brown depths, where once it had burned so brightly with pride, but even then it still glowed with an unquenchable fire. They may have broken its body but they had not broken its spirit, for all their trying. The Dwarf seemed to stare into his very being and it was to his humiliating shame that he could not hold that gaze, his courage failing him as he quickly averted his eyes.

With an angry hiss he ordered Lars to finally put the miserable creature out of its torment, turning his back to the scene as Lars grimly stepped forward with the axe in hand, sharp side out. Enriten did not even have the courage to watch, but he heard the ominous 'swish' and the sound of the rusted blade's heavy final strike.

Then utter and complete silence.

After that, he had the grumbling and tired Men dismember the corpse, while he stayed a good distance away to avoid the mess. They wrapped the various body parts in some sacks and put them in the back of the wagon outside, carefully covered under a tarp. He then personally set fire to the small shed, burning the small structure down with Odren's body still inside, destroying all the evidence of the dark things that had taken place within. Then it was a quick trip to the first level market area, where it was no problem to find an eager buyer for his grisly merchandise.

Three hours later, their small group had officially dispersed. Enriten made sure that all four of the Men had been paid their agreed due, as well as a little extra to insure their continued silence— his own purse was much heavier from his recent sale. After that he went back to the palace, easily slipping back into his room, and had a long hot bath and a furious scrubbing.

There would be a valiant search in the following days, but nothing would come of it. Enriten would knowingly watch their fruitless efforts as he continued on with his duties, silently snickering behind his placid mask. In the following weeks and months they would still find nothing. It was as if Gimli, son of Gloin, had simply disappeared off the face of Arda one day, never to be seen again.

Time and the seasons would pass and like all things, life would go on and eventually over the years the missing Dwarf was all but forgotten. Like the late Boromir, Gloin's son's name was only brought up when there was a telling of the adventures of the Fellowship and the One Ring. As for those who never forgot and continued to feel his absence, a strain had set in and it was not long before they began to drift apart as deeper fractures appeared.

On the bigger scale of things, while still accounted as allies, the Dwarves had all but ceased to have anything to do with Gondor or Rohan. Not having an anchor there they retreated back to their own lands in the west, another victory tempered by loss.

King Eomer was faced with the disappointment of his eager offer of the 'Glittering Caves' going untaken, and the beautiful and mysterious caverns lay dark and empty for many years. The caves' glittering wonders would eventually be rediscovered by Men, who would then proceed strip them of their beauty until all that was left were bare and darksome caverns.

As for the goings-on in the palace of Gondor, the disappearance of their shared friend seemed to create a gap in the friendship of the ex-ranger and the Mirkwood archer. It was not long after the last search had been called off that King Elessar and the Lord of Ithilien began to drift apart. Queen Arwen, Faramir and his wife Eowyn could only watch helplessly as close bonds slowly broke. Over time the lithe Wood-elf spent less and less time with the King and his growing family in Gondor.

There was an unease about him, as if he no longer totally trusted the very city its self. Eventually it was rare for the elegant Prince to even visit and when he did come to the shining White City, he would spend his free time wandering around the palace and city as if he were looking for someone, someone he could never seem to find.

It was with no surprise that a few years later the King and Queen received with heavy hearts the news of the Lord of Ithilien's departure to the Undying Lands. They consoled themselves with the hope that their dear friend would find peace and happiness once again amongst his own kind on those distant gray shores.

But the true and ultimate irony would be the fate of Enriten himself, something he most assuredly did not plan. For not a year into the future as he was fetching some scrolls for Aaddrunye, he would slip and fall down one of the marble staircases that led to one of the dark rooms below the main floor of the library. He broke his neck and died instantly.

He would be laid to rest with honors, some even shedding a few tears for the bumbling assistant. Even King Elessar and his Queen would honor the funeral with a brief visit, giving their condolences to Aaddrunye. No one had any idea of just who it was they were burying or what type of person he had been. All his ugly little plans and secrets would follow him to the grave, to remain unknown and unanswered.

But for the moment Enriten sat in his chair, warm and comfortable, smug in his conviction of having fooled everyone…

Months later, a world away in the far and distant east, lay a sprawling and gilded palace with long red tiled roofs, guarded over by long twisting stone dragons and spiraling red pillars. The courtyards echoed with busy servants, and armored and grim-faced palace guards stood at attention while painted courtesans talked behind intricate ivory fans and danced in flowing robes of silk.

In a lavishly furnished room, a very important Man, dressed in a rich exotic fashion, sat down in a chair before a beautifully laid out table. After he was comfortably seated in his cushioned and black lacquered chair, he snapped his fingers with an imperialistic sniff. Instantly several dark-haired servants scuttled quickly forth, setting many interesting looking dishes before him. One particular servant carefully set out a delicate white jade cup and poured some dark, strong smelling tea from a beautifully decorated hobnailed kettle. He stepped back with the hot kettle in hand, dutifully waiting for the next time the Emperor's cup needed to be refilled.

The pale Emperor looked over the dishes with a critical eye; he was not well and had been suffering from a deadly wasting disease for some time. Over the years he had turned to his healers and various physicians for help.

"What is all of this?" he demanded, peering at the spread with his dark, slanted, cruel-looking eyes.

At the Emperor's query the willowy head servant stepped boldly forward.

"Your Majesty, these are several dishes that the grand physician suggests might help you regain your health," he said with a bow, before turning the Emperor's attention back to the feast set out before him.

"Dragon blood tea with powdered Dwarf bones, for strength and stamina," he explained, motioning to the dark red tea with a pale hand. The Emperor only raised a dark eyebrow before picking up the delicate jade cup with a hand that trembled ever so slightly and took a sip. The servants watched with bated breath for the Emperor's reaction, and they all gave internal sighs of relief when the haughty ruler nodded his head in approval before taking another sip, apparently enjoying the strong flavor. Seeing this, the head servant continued on with the other dishes, motioning to each in turn.

"Stewed tiger entrails from the dense emerald forests of the south, boiled dragon scales from the snow capped mountains of the east. Sliced apples from a sacred grove blessed by a Kirin (1.). Rice noodles boiled in the water from one of the mirrored pools, in the black caves hidden in the scorching deserts of Araba. The steamed flesh of a mermaid from the dark depths of the Dead Sea, and from the far and distant west, the pickled tongue of an immortal-- I believe they call them "Elfs" or something of that nature. And the roasted flesh of a Dwarf.

"The ingredients to each dish were extremely difficult to acquire and because they were for you, our honorable Emperor, no expense was spared. I have been assured that all the ingredients are of the best quality!"

Saying nothing the Emperor looked over the artistically laid out selection of rare and exotic foods, before finally picking up his gold and ivory inlaid chopsticks and reaching out to take a large piece of the so- called 'Dwarf flesh', which had already been cut for him. He popped the dark meat into his mouth and chewed.

He found it full- flavored, gamy and rather spicy, a bit tough, but overall not bad. The patiently waiting servants anxiously watched as he finally nodded his approval, before reaching to sample from the other dishes.

The meal continued on without interruptions, the servants stepping forward every now and then to refill or take a plate away. He had finally eaten most of the dishes, liking most of them, though he found the steamed mermaid to be a bit too salty for his tastes and the pickled Elf tongue to be far too sweet. He finished his third cup of tea, and reached out with his chopsticks to spear the final slice of Dwarf meat from its plate. With great flourish, he put it in his mouth— of all the dishes he could honestly say that he liked the stewed tiger entrails and the roasted Dwarf meat the most. He chewed noisily on the last bit of flesh, savoring its exotic taste.

That was until he suddenly found himself unable to breathe.

The gathered servants watched in confusion as the Emperor suddenly froze, his chopsticks clattering to the tabletop as his eyes went wide. There was a sudden panic as the Emperor jumped up, knocking his chair back with a loud clatter. His face turned bright red as he clutched at his throat while he gasped for air. The servants were helpless to do anything as they watched their ruler's eyes bulge as he stumbled about, tripping over his overturned chair and heavily falling to the ground. His body convulsed violently as he continued to choke before he finally flopped boneless to the richly carpeted floor, dead.

It was a long moment before anyone moved, as they stared like gaping fish at the now dead Emperor sprawled, blue- faced, on the floor. Finally the head servant stepped up to the table and looked at the various dishes on the table, before quickly spotting the empty plate from which the Emperor had last eaten. Picking up the empty plate he turned to look at his fellow servants.

"This is the last time we ever serve roasted Dwarf flesh. Agreed?"

_The End_

_>manic evil cackle _

_ Sorry, I was feeling particularly disappointed and evil the day I wrote this and even then I couldn't help but poking a little fun at it._

_(1.) A Kirin is like the Asian version of a Unicorn, and is considered the "holiest" of beasts. _

_Ok, this was the original ending I wrote after I found out that even most devout L/G fans care more about Legolas, and would much rather read a "Legolas angst and in peril again" fic with all the other characters worrying and running to the rescue, then a story of Gimli in peril. shugs So instead of having him rescued I went with a ugly, but more realistic ending. The fact is, in history when someone finds themselves in a situation like Gims, it' usually not a happy ending. That and I wanted to try a death-fic at least once and show that no one really knows everything there is to know about someone else. Someone you might have know for years might really be someone you've never met, having only known the mask they ware when their with you. Good or bad.  
_

_Now since a lovely few (Alma's Muse, the wanna be dwarf, Griswold and A Tye ) seem interested, I'll be doing an alternate ending now. Which I am busy working on as we speak!_


	3. Chapter 2b

Title: Masks

Rating: R

Warning: descriptions of torture, foul language and gore.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any profit off this. All characters, places and things, with the exception of a few OC belong to J.R.R Tolkien.

Notes: If you like Gimli only as comedy-relief or Legolas' stupid side-kick, then you best turn back now. This isn't your Peter Jackson's dumb, clumsy and watered-down Gimli. This is pure Tolkien- Gimli, the lean-mean warrior from the books. Just a warning but there are some scenes that may be hard to take for the squeamish. This has also not been beta-read yet, so lots of mess ups!

'

'

'

* * *

"The mask of Rot and the mask of Fire"

* * *

In Gondor as some slept and other's dinned, others still where hard at work. On the fifth and lowest ring of the White City, in the dark sweltering interior of a small ramshackle shed, the sounds only a vicious beating could produce was heard as two sweaty Men, one holding a small thick cudgel, the other using only his meaty fists as they worked their bound prisoner over. Who could do nothing, but endure their torments, his arms still bound as he knelt upon the dirt floor, another thick post at his back as the shadows of his tormenters jerked back and forth along the walls.

The Dwarf's head snapped to the side as he was punched again, this was followed by a cough when the other Man gave him a particularly vicious kick to the abdomen, causing the Dwarf to grimace and spit up blood which dribbled thickly down his bare chin. Yet through it all he remained stubbornly silent, his smooth dirt-smudged face, now devoid of his once prized and immaculately cared for beard, was bloody and badly bruised from the continued beatings while the knuckles of his two tormenters were raw from their repeated actions, their forms slick with sweat as they stopped every now and then to wipe at their eyes and brow.

Gimli's head snapped to the other side as the lanky dark-haired Man struck him with the small cudgel again, followed by a nasty right hook to his other cheek, causing a spray of crimson to splatter to the ground and down the front of the Dwarf's ruined and torn shirt, his still bound hands clenching and unclenching uselessly. The much larger Man then took the others place and gave the Dwarf a few more punches before stepping back again with a with a big sigh, panting tiredly as the prisoner glared balefully at him.

The Dwarf had just spit out a wad of blood, internally wincing at the metallic taste in his mouth, when someone suddenly grabbed a fist-full of his long copper-hair and harshly wrenched his head up, causing him to growl as he was forced to look up into the pale face of the tall dark-haired Man who called himself Lars once again.

"Tell us where the hidden passages are! Tell us where the weak points of the walls are! Speak!" he shouted into the Dwarf's glaring face, his weapon clutched threateningly in his other hand.

"/EAT SHIT/" Gimli barked back, murder in his large flashing brown eyes, not even aware that he had sworn in Khuzdul.

Lars however didn't need a translation to understand the harsh words in the Dwarf's strange language, the meaning was abundantly clear. With a angry growl of his own he released Gimli's hair before striking him viciously a few more times with the blood-strained cudgel before he turned and walked back over to the small hearth nearby, tossing the cudgel with the rest of his interments in disgust, his long arms aching from strain and overuse.

"This is a waste of time!" grumbled the seated Bastion from nearby, fanning himself while sweat pored off his pug-ugly face and bald head. Morhan and the blond Hesphyn giving agreeing nods, all of them miserable in the heat, all of them having removed their shirts earlier, but it did little to help in the stifling air of the shed. The prisoner also suffered in the heat, his tan skin slick from blood and sweat, but he had far more to worry about then the unpleasant temperature as the firelight from the small hearth illuminated his heavily bound and muscular form, his long thick hair partly obscuring his strong featured face.

Morhan spoke up then, running his good hand through his sweat soaked curls as he got up from the crate he had been sitting on most of the night. "I got to piss somethin' fierce," he mumbled as he made his way past the others, giving the prisoner a wide berth.

"Hurry back!" Lars ordered over his shoulder as he squatted and stoked the hot embers with a long poker. Morhan only dismissively waved a hand before disappearing into the darkness of the other room, the door to be heard slamming shut a few moments later.

"I'm hungry," wined Hesphyn. The large heavyset Man now leaning in the doorway to the second room as he idly kicked at a large rock on the dirt-floor. His blond hair now tied back into a small messy tail as his great furry gut hung over his tightly synched belt, of the four Men he was the most miserable in the heat, his pudgy form looked as if it was dripping in grease. The smell in the shed was also none to pleasant, for the combination of heat, unwashed bodies and the lack proper ventilation was not a good one.

"Shut you mouth, Hesphyn," Lars growled, a look of irritation on his pale and rather large-nosed face as he made ready his next torture.

With a pair of tongs, he carefully took out one of the glowing nails from the hot embers, a cruel smile coming to his face as the light from the hearth under-lit his sharp features in the harsh orange glow, making him look almost Goblin-like. Then with one hand he took up a simple mallet from the collection of tools spread on the floor nearby and got to his feet again. Gimli could only kneel there watching in dread as Lars walked back with the hot nail, he knew what was coming, having already had it done to him before.

"Just tell me what I want to know Naugrim- and I'll put this back." Lars said nicely, sounding so oddly reasonable while holding the glowing nail over Gimli's bound thigh, near where a previous nail had been driven.

"I'll tell you nothing, you piece of Warg-snot!" The Dwarf spat through gritted teeth, his large hands tightly fisted, trying to prepare himself for what he knew was to come, holding his strong chin up in defiance.

Lars' dark eyes narrowed, his thin lip curling, "So be it." The mallet was raised- then fell as muffled 'clink' was heard as the nail was driven in, followed by a terrible sizzling sound.

Gimli threw his head back, audibly knocking the back of it against the post behind him, his white teeth clenched, his eyes clamped tightly shut as a harsh pained groan managed to escaped his throat, the heavy chains clinking.

"See what you make me do?" Lars chided the Dwarf, looking down at the pained being. "Just, tell us what we wish to know and all this will be over."

It was during this time that Morhan returned, tromping through the door and back into the small sweltering room, walking back to his previous spot. The curly-haired Man almost let out a giggle as he watched in unrepressed glee, unconsciously stroking his bandaged and blood-stained hand as the Dwarf arched his back, muscles rippling as he tossed his head and strain against his bonds while the white-hot pain from the nail searing his flesh continued. His handsome face contorted into a terrible grimace, barely managing to hold back a scream of agony while tears of pain escaped his tightly clamped eyes. For the next few moments he was completely deaf to Lars continued demands of "When are the secret passages ways? Tell me and this will all be over!"

"Damn it be hot in ere!" Bastion complained again after a few long moments, wiping at his sweating face with the back of his leathery arm. Morhan also gave an agreeing nod from where he now stood wiping at his pale own brow, not taking his round eyes from their pained captive.

Nearby Hesphyn stood up from the wall and walked over to a bucket of water sitting by the hearth and filled himself a cup before chugging it down, Lars finally turned away from the Dwarf in defeat and came over as well, taking the cup after the large Rohirrim was done.

"I hear that they be having a grand celebration at the palace, lots of guests and spirits," He said conversationally to the brooding Lars, a big smirk on his pudgy face as he purposefully talked loudly enough so their prisoner would hear.

"Maybe their celebrating that this one here is gone!" Snickered Bastion, getting up from the crate he had been sitting on and stretching his back before scratching at his pot-belly. "They should thank us!" he snorted as he glared at the prisoner.

"Thank us? The King would no doubt give us a right reward of our choosing!" Lars snorted, over his shoulder, sipping his drink.

"Why my most loyal and handsome heroes, please take what you wish! For all that is mine is yours," Morhan said regally, doing a terrible impression of King, from where he stood.

"I get first dibs on fucking the Queen!" Hesphyn laughed, his blue eyes looking off momentarily as he fantasized about just that. Lars finally elbowing him in the side with a knowing snort.

"Keep dreaming, Hesphyn."

"Oh that I will!" He snickered back, with a slimy grin. "Old King Elessar better hope I never get a go at that pale Elven cunny. One night with me and she'd never be the same!" His course words causing Lars to shake his head with a snort in turn.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that. One night with you and she'd jump in the nearest river and drown herself!"

The larger Man however only shrugged at the insult, "I'd care none, one ride would be good enough for me. Then again, I'd just want to have a go at any Elven cunny! I still be wishin' we captured that pretty blond thing- then this here creature!"

"By the Valar! You are the romantic one aren't you?" the smaller Man snorted sarcastically with a shake of his head.

It was during this time that Bastion came over to squat by the prisoner's left side, curiously looking at the intricate tattoos that encircled Dwarf's thick bicep as he mopped the sweat off his bald head with a dirty rag.

Born and raised in Gondor, Bastion had never seen tattoos and was fascinated, unconsciously reaching out with a dirty hand to run his fingers over the warm painted flesh in in wonder. At first the Dwarf didn't seem to notice, no doubt the searing pain from the hot nail still lodged in his leg holding his attention. However when those fingers trailed up to his broad shoulder and attempted to follow the tattoos trailing over onto his broad chest and under his shirt, the Dwarf finally noticed and Bastion barely yanked back his hand before loosing some fingers.

"Don't touch me!" The Dwarf snarled hoarsely, sharp teeth flashing, yanking away from the Man as far as his bounds would allow, which wasn't much, bloody lip curled in anger and utter disgust.

After a moment of initial surprise, a nasty smile came to Bastion's ugly face then, finding that he had stumbled across something before turning to the tall lanky Man standing nearby drinking.

"Hey, Lars! I know most be wanting a go at some pale Elven tail, but I think I know a couple blokes that would pay good money to say they fucked a Dwarf once!"

"Eh, Morhan? Dare ya to stick your cock in his mouth," Hesphyn nickered to the other nearby

"I think not!" The much smaller Man cried with a sharp shake of his head, holding his injured hand close as he gave the prisoner a critical once over. "Wouldn't surprise me none if he got teeth on the other end as well!"

Meanwhile the Dwarf only glared as he rested his head against the post behind him, feeling his bile rise and his skin crawl as he listened to them talk, utter disgust written all over his face. He knew all to well that most Men where no better then Goblins when it came to their base amusements and that included rape, but unlike one of Elder he could not simply "fade" if they wished to have some sport with him. The real possibility that these Men might beat him until he was no longer able to fight back, then 'use' him for their continued amusements, made him want to vomit as his heart flared in rage. He was no fool, he had heard the horrible tales of those unfortunate enough to be taken alive by Goblins or human raiders. Only a fool thought rape was a crime of lust or passion, countless women and men of all species throughout the centuries could attest to that. Rape was a tool of possession and domination, to lord one's power over another by using their body against their will.

Meanwhile, all in the room knew what would happen if Morhan tried to take that dare. Having already witnessed what those sharp white teeth could do to fingers, they surly would have even less trouble with other 'softer' body parts.

Lars finally shook his head as he ran a dirty hand through his dark shoulder-length hair. "No time, unless some of them don't mine fucking a corpse," he finally snorted over his second cup of water.

Bastion actually seemed to ponder that for while, rubbing a hand along his scraggly chin before finally shaking his bald head and making a dismissive gesture. "Nah! Never mind then."

"Best be thankful for that, Dirt-Rat," Bastion snickered, turning back and flashing the Dwarf a lecherous smile that was missing some teeth, his breath foul. "Cause you'd be moaning like a whore after I was through with you."

"More like laughing my head off after you try pokin' me with that mouse dick you call a prick!" Gimli steered back, his almond-shaped eyes flashing in barely suppressed rage.

Lars and the others snorted with laughter as Bastion sputtered while the Dwarf gave him a vicious smirk. With a snarl the bald Man shot to his feet and gave the Dwarf a nasty back-hand and spat on him before stomping away.

With his thirst finally quenched Lars decided it was time for a new tactic as he took his cup and filled it again.

"Truly the strength and endurance of the Dwarves is no lie. I am impressed!" He said pleasantly as he came to squat before the kneeling and bound Dwarf again, the cup of water in hand.

"Still… I'm sure you could use a cool drink, Master Dwarf… What has it been? Two.. Three days without a sip?" He said in a cheerful voice as if they where old friends, making a show of swirling the water in the cup he held as if it were fine wine.

Gimli said nothing, his long straight hair partly curtaining Lar's view of his bloody and bruised face, the one eye that could be seen only watched, paying no attention to the cup held enticingly out before him. He was no fool, he knew exactly what the human was playing at.

"Truly, I'm not a bad person. Just tell me what I want to know and we'll both be able to leave this place and go home." Lars said in a pleasant tone and cocking his head while the holding the cup closer to the Dwarf's face, tempting him to take a drink.

But only silence was heard in answer while two drops of blood fell from Gimli's chin to the cup now held under it, causing small ripples in the water which went unnoticed by both beings as they now stared at one another in a contest of wills. When the Dwarf continued to say nothing and the long silence only lengthened, Lars pleasant mask finally crumbled and fell, his eyes narrowed in irritation and with a snarl he threw the water in the Dwarf's face, soaking him.

"Tell me!" Lars demanded, grabbing the front of what was left of the Dwarf's sleeveless shirt.

But still the copper-haired Dwarf refused to speak, only glaring back at him, water dripping down his bruised face and wet hair as he and the dark-haired Man glared at one another, now mere inches apart in a silent battle of wills.

"TELL ME!" came the startling yell, causing the others in the room to jump.

Lars was good at what he did, he prided himself on it, yet how was it that this damned creature had still told him nothing? Those strange inhuman eyes still full of such fire, flashing with such rage, when so many others would already have been gibbering wrecks, begging for mercy long ago?

With a snarl of disgust he let go of the Dwarf's shirt and got his feet, throwing the ceramic cup across the room in complete frustration, the others watching it shatter against the far wall. The Dwarf meanwhile took the opportunity to lick his chapped and split lips for a few precious drops of moisture, his throat terrible parched.

Still angry and at the end of his patients Lars came back to the Dwarf, leaning down close as he grabbed the Dwarf by the front of his sleeveless shirt again, coming in close, his pale face but inches from the prisoner's tan one, a snarl on his lips, his gray-eyes flashing. When one is frustrated and blinded by anger, one may forget even the simplest of things- such as not to get too close. But at the moment Lars had utterly forgotten that in the face of this creature's maddening defiance as the other Men watched with open mouths as if to warn him of something.

"What do you think this will accomplish? I guarantee you, you will beg for death before the end, I will make you wish your Dirt-rat mother never birthed you!" he snarled into the Dwarf's oddly calm face, spittle flying in his anger.

"No one cares what happens to you! Not those of the palace, not the King- no one! This is not their neck on the line, it is yours! Just tell us what we wish to know and all this will end. Better to watch out for your own neck then theirs now."

"No. Better watch after your own slimy neck!" Gimli growled, eyes flashing dangerously before lunging forward as far as his bonds would allow, sharp teeth bared. Surprised by the sudden attack, Lars still managed to jerk back, so instead of crushing his windpipe or biting through his jugular vein as Gimli had hoped he only succeeded in sinking his teeth into the Man's lower neck before turning his head and ripping away a large chunk of flesh.

The other Men jumped to their feet and rushed forward as Lars screamed and fell back clutching his bleeding neck as Gimli, his mouth now stained with blood, calmly turned his head and simply spit the large bloody chunk of flesh out, which landed several feet a way at Morhan's feet, who all but leapt back from it in horror.

Hesphy and Bastion helped drag the cursing and yelling Man safely away from the bound Dwarf as Morhan found some dirty rags to help stifle the badly bleeding wound. Some time after that Bastion got up from where the others where helping Lars and went over to the copper-haired Dwarf that silently watched him before the bald Man proceeded to give him another vicious beating.

When Bastion finally stepped back, rubbing his sore knuckles as the Dwarf glared murder at them all, Lars looked up at Hesphy squatting next to him as he held the bloody cloth to his neck. "I really hate Dwarves." The larger Man only nodded his head in complete agreement.

After waiting for the bleeding to stop and then to be crudely bandaged, Lars went outside to take a few moments to calm and collect himself again as the others waited inside before he finally returned. The other Men and the prisoner then watched the tall lanky Man stand there fuming in the cramped confines of the room, long arms crossed as he unconsciously chewed his thumbnail while he furiously thought to himself, his dark eyes shifting around the room. It was then that his eyes alighted on the rusted axe that had been put to one side earlier while they had been beating the prisoner. He had not wanted to use it, the trick with torturer is to prolong the exhaustion and torment, to keep slowly chipping away at a being until they could no longer take the pressure and cracked. But if one went to far to fast, the prisoner would be dead and the torturer would be without any confession or the information he wanted. Never mind what Enriten had said, Lars knew that their was no going back after they started breaking the Dwarf's hands, if the prisoner still didn't talk- he never would. That was why he held off using the axe until he had exhausted all other methods, Lars hated the thought of failure, but he was at his limit now and the wound on his neck throbbed terribly. To Mordor with the consequences!

Gimli and the rest of the Men watched Lars storm over and pick up the heavy rusted axe from where it had been laying. "That's it! I've tried to be nice Master Dwarf, but you force my hand!" He growled, tool in hand, his features dark before tuning to the fat Man standing nearby.

"Hesphyn! Get that wood-chopping block from outside! Time to start breaking this little bastard's hands." He instructed while glaring down at the Dwarf, as the blond nodded and disappeared from the room. Morhan and Bastion remained quiet as they both watched from where they sat, Morhan eyes especially seem to dance with barely suppressed glee, his curly hair dark and damp from the heat.

Gimli's heart began to pound in his chest as his breathing quickened with flood of adrenalin as Hesphyn finally came back, grunting as he lugging the thick wooden bock from outside. When it was dumped before him, instinct automatically kicked it and he began to struggle again, panic threatening to rise. Lars meanwhile stood in the middle of the room, the rusted axe resting casually over one narrow shoulder now, a smirk back on his pale face.

Gimli had always prided himself on being a realist, never to look to false hope. Yet as he continued to strain against his bonds, he suddenly came to an odd realization. Since waking up in this miserable place and finding himself bound, not once had he thought he might be rescued… Never once had he thought he would see Legolas or Aragorn come bursting through that door. And for some reason… that thought truly hurt now. _Would he even be missed, who would tell his father of his fate? Who would tell Legolas?_

As the thick metal imprisoning his wrist cut cruelly into his flesh and his muscles strained against his bonds, he could hear his mother's strong voice from long ago in the back of his mind. "_We are Dwarves, we are the unwanted ones, none care of our fate. Not the Valor, not Elves, no Men or Hobbits. We are alone, never forget that. We can rely on no one, but ourselves. For there will be none there to help you except your own hands. And if they fail you… you are lost."_

_Was he lost? _The thought of losing his hands alone was far more frightening to him then death. To become a cripple that could not even hold an axe or hammer, to become a useless burden to others, to become a embarrassment to his clan was something beyond a nightmare. A Dwarf relied on the strength of his arms and the skill of his hands, without them he was nothing. The loss of an arm would drive almost any Dwarf to suicide, the loss of ones hands and arms was considered one of the worst fates to befall a Dwarf and Gimli was no exception.

Either way he knew he was dead, these Men would kill him no matter what he did. But if he was to die… he wanted to be whole_. I will not die a cripple!_

"I told you, a mumakil couldn't pull those posts out!" Hesphyn chuckled. With a laugh the fat Man came over and gave the Dwarf a vicious kick to the ribs, causing him to let out a pained grunt and bare his teeth as his struggling finally cease and he forced himself to calm.

A reckless plan then formed in his mind, he was dead anyway, but it was better to die quickly then let these fools slowly torture him to death. _Aragorn was a strong King, his city fortified, none knew the secret passage ways throughout the city, none knew the minute weaknesses of the massive walls, none could breach them! In the end it did not matter if Aragorn was warned of the traitor in his court or not. He would be fine, no doubt he and Faramir would uncover the truth about Enriten__ on their own. Yes. The ex-Ranger had his Queen and Legolas, his brothers and his loyal people for support. As for Legolas… he… he would be fine as well! He had Ithilien__to rule and his peoples support as well as Aragorn's friendship and council. He would be fine- all would be fine! Yes. In the end all would be fine, between the good Men of Gondor, the Elves, the Steward, Eomer and Lady Eowyn and Lord Imrahil, all would be well, one lone Dwarf matter little_. He hurriedly told himself as he figured out just how he could get one of the these damned fool Men to just kill him. _If only he could anger one enough to… _That was when his dark eyes fixed on the large form of Hesphyn

Lars moved forward then and told the overweight blond to move the chopping block under the Dwarf's right arm, but just as Hesphyn grunted and stepped forward again- the prisoner spoke, startling them all.

"Hold! I will speak." The Dwarf said, his deep voice cutting through the thick air like a knife, greatly surprising the Men. "I will speak." The Dwarf repeated, seeming to take a moment to collect himself. He closed his eyes and attempted to shake his long hair out of his face.

_Better to just end it now, _Gimli thought to himself as the Men eagerly awaited in silence. A moment later those large brown eyes snapped open again as a wide and completely uncharacteristic grin suddenly spread over his dirty face as he looked up at all of them then, fire flashing in those brown pools.

"I can lie no more! You all be uglier then the under-side of a troll's ass!" He then focused his main attention to Hesphyn.

"As for you! You bloated and rotting bag of puss! How did a pathetic creature like you ever make it to adulthood, surly any normal person would have smothered you at birth. You probably don't even know who your father is, do you? Then again, what father would admit to siring such a creature as you? Your mother was no doubt some half shilling whore.

I truly pity those that must look at you, the very sight of you must turn the stomachs of those that must pass you in the street each day. And your friend is right, you best make sure to keep dreaming about cunny, cause the only snatch you've ever gotten is the kind you've had to run down and force your disgusting self upon, no doubt. You can't even buy it, can you?" The Dwarf sneered, vicious glee written all over his bloody and bruised face. "Even the lowliest and most desperate disease ridden whore wouldn't take you! A blindfolded Orc wouldn't willingly fuck you!" The thick humid air of the shed was then filled with the Dwarf's deep laughter as he threw back his head in cruel mirth.

It was a few stunned moments later that the others started snicker at the final insult, which proved to be too much for the fat Man's already damaged pride to take. Snatching up a large rock he had been kicking around earlier, he shoved past Lars, making the smaller Man stumble and accidentally drop the axe. The Dwarf didn't seem to care, only continuing to laugh uproariously in the face of the fat Man's red rage.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU SON OF A WHORE!" Hesphyn bellowed, throwing his arm back then smashing the rock into the side of the Dwarf's head, cutting off the laughter as the stocky being's head snapped harshly to the side with the force of the heavy blow. The cringe-worthy sound of the rock colliding with his skull making a laud terrible "crack!" before he went limp and his head lulled forward.

Still in a rage, Hesphyn threw his arm back for another hit- however, before the seething Man could strike the silent Dwarf again he was suddenly yanked back by Lars, the now bloody rock falling from his hand to the dirt floor.

"You fucking idiot! What are you doing?" Lars screamed as the others looked on, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"You heard him! The little shit was laughing me! At Me! He dared laugh at me-!" yelled the red-faced Hesphyn lamely, fists clenched, sounding more like a petulant child then a cold-blooded killer.

"Shut the fuck up!" Lars snarled, not wanting to hear more, giving the much larger Man a hard shove.

"Didn't you see what he was doing? And like a total fool you fell for it! I swear by the Valar, Hesphyn! If you have killed him before we can get that information… Before we get PAID! "Lars warned ominously, the look he gave the blond-haired Man promising a horrible fate. That immediately cooled Hesphyn anger as the fat Man stood there panting from his previous rage, numbly giving the smaller Man a nod of understanding, the thought of not getting paid turning a major knot in his stomach.

Lars gave him a final shove before squatting down by the silent captive, it's long thick hair obscuring it's clean-shaven face. The Man cautiously reached out and gingerly took hold of the Dwarf's head and pulled it up with a grip on it's hair, peering into it's inhuman face. Except for some blood and a nasty bruise already spreading over his left temple, the Dwarf was breathing and only appeared to be unconscious. After a few sharp testing slaps to one sticky cheek and still getting no response, Lars let the Dwarf's heavy head slump forward again and looked over his shoulder at the others.

"He's out cold," he said simply as he stood up again.

Hearing this, Bastion muttered something under his breath and walked across the small room to pick up a bucket full of water by the hearth and began to walk over to the captive, preparing to wake him again, but Lars reached out and halted him, in turn making some water slosh to the floor.

"No, leave it be for now." He said, letting go of the Man's arm and walking over to the dropped axe laying on the dirt floor and picked it up again.

"But Enriten said-" Bastion started to say, motioning to their captive.

"I know what that little shit said!" Lars snapped, interrupted him as he tossed the heavy axe with the other 'interments' by the hearth, causing a momentary clatter of noise.

"We've been cooped up in here for days- he hasn't!" He continued, wiping his forehead with his forearm with a sharp motion. "I'm going to get some air, then grab an ale and some grub, no matter what he thinks!"

"Besides we can't trust Hesphyn here to drink all of our ale and half our food when he comes back- like last time," Lars growled, looking pointedly at the overweight Rohirrim, who only looked away and grumbled something under his breath, while Bastion put the bucket back looking less then pleased.

"We'll start breaking his fingers when we get back, besides he's out cold." The dark haired Man snorted, turning back to the Dwarf and using his booted foot to non to gently nudge their captive, who remained completely limp.

"Best to let the little shit rest, we also have to be seeing if Hesphyn here hasn't fucked up his head," he added, as he ran a dirty long fingered hand through his greasy hair while shooting the large Man another pointed glare. Hesphyn in turn only huffed as he snatched his shirt from where it lay with the others one of the dusty crates stacked along the wall and walked out of the room, a moment later they all heard the door yank open before slamming shut.

With that the other Men began to follow him out of the shed, until Lars suddenly paused after shrugging on his own coal-gray tunic and wincing at the renewed pain in his bandaged neck before he turned and pointed at the last two Men nearest the captive.

"Bastion, Morhan. Stay here." This of course was not met well.

"Wha! I want some ale too!" Bastion sputtered, spittle flying from his large mouth, his brown tunic clutched in one knobby hand.

"Lars! For Mordor's sake! I've been here forever. I need someone to look at my hand!" Morhan whined, holding his bandaged hand up piteously.

"Shut your mouths!" Lars snapped in irritation before either Man could voice any more objections, his eyes flashing.

"Stay here and watch him, we'll bring you both something back." He gave them both a long look that told them to shut up and do what they where told before he continued out the door, slamming it behind him. A moment later the sounds of the cart and the clopping of hooves was heard before disappearing into the distance as the two inside the dark confines of the shed grumbled to themselves as they went back to their spots. The older Man snarling under his breath in irritation as he threw his cheap woven tunic back on the crate with Morhan's simple and neatly folded green one, not caring when both pieces of clothing dropped to the floor as he flopped back down on his vacated seat, thin leathery arms crossed.

For awhile the two waited in silence before amusing themselves with idol talk and gossip about their absent fellows until Bastion got to his feet again with a loud grunt, sick of the quiet and completely bored, the other just watching him shuffle about the small room.

"I have an idea." Bastion finally spoke, coming to a stop in front of the motionless prisoner as he yanked on what little scraggly hair he had left on his bald head. "Lets wake him up!" he snickered to the other Man, malicious mischief in his eyes as he hurried over to the small hearth and pulled out one of the hot pokers that where smoldering in the hot embers. That seem to perk Morhan up, his missing fingers a continual ach, he eagerly agreed getting to his own feet then, eager for some payback.

"So…where to jab him with this first, eh? The older Man asked over his shoulder, lips pulled back over his gray teeth, the gaps from his missing teeth made his smile look especially demented. "The belly?"

"Burn out one of those evil eyes of his!" Morhan eagerly suggested, now standing next to Bastion, his round eyes glued to the poker the other held as he unconsciously bit his lip in excitement.

"An eye it is! Now lets see how fast he wakes up!" Cackled Bastion to the taller Man before turning to unconscious Dwarf. As he walked forward to the three posts the prisoner was bound to, Morhan right behind, holding the poker at the ready, the tip glowing orange hot- when Bastion caught the flash of something which immediately caused him to stop.

"What was that?" He asked wide-eyed.

"What was what?

"I saw something… metal, like silver!" Bastion hissed, now squinting his small round eyes at the captive, trying to see the flash again.

"Your seeing things!" Morhan snorted after a long pause, rolling his eyes and giving the bald Man a shove with his good hand.

"Hold up now!" Bastion snapped, throwing his other hand up, halting the annoyed other Man.

He slowly stepped forward with the hot poker, waving it slowly around, the once bright orange tip had cooled a bit. The now red glow it cast softly illuminated their limp and bound captive, his clothes ripped and stained, his muscular form glistening with sweat..

"Look!" Bastion finally gasped, pointing a bony finger. "There on his arm!"

Being in such a rush before to bind the Dwarf, they had some how failed to notice the thick band of smooth metal that encircled the creature's upper right arm In the dark light of the shed it had somehow been overlooked, blending in with the intricate bands of tattoos etched into the Dwarf's tan skin.

"Quick, get the candle!" Bastion ordered the younger Man, who quickly did so as told. While he turned and threw the hot poker back into the hearth for later, causing a small momentary shower of embers, Morhan returned a moment later with a candle in his good hand.

The two Men then crowded around the Dwarf's right shoulder, Bastion glanced over at the captive's head, its long copper-hair partly curtained it's shadowed face but he could see that it was still unconscious before reaching out and running two fingers over the armband. The warm metal under his dirty and calloused fingers was smooth as glass with a dazzling sheen that only one precious metal could produce.

"Mithril!" he gasped wide-eyed, a now gapping Morhan next to him.

"I've never seen Mithril before… Imagine it's worth!" whispered the curly haired Man, the candle he held trembled in his hand at the thoughts now running through his head.

"He's still out, come! Let us hurry before Lars and the other's get back," Bastion hissed urgently, reaching for the ropes that bound the Dwarf's bloody wrist. The mention of unchaining the Dwarf however quickly shook Morhan out of his greedy daze.

"You can't be serious!" He gasped, shooting to his feet as he looked down at the other Man. But Bastion was not listening, for greed was now in his heart and his fingers itched to hold the bit of precious metal in his hands.

"Here hold onto the chains while I undo the ropes and chains attached to the post. Then we'll slip the band down his arm, down the chains- then rechain him before any are the wiser!" But Morhan was having none of it, now shaking his head, the candle in in his hand causing the many shadows to jump an writhe.

"Your mad!"

"Come, Morhan!" Bastion hissed again, getting to his own feet now.

"You saw what he did to Gwullyn and Odren! Or what of my hand!" he cried, holding the bandaged limb up for the older Man to see. "Now you want to unchain him?"

"He can't do anything! He's unconscious- and will be done before he wakes up!"

"Lars will kill us if he finds out!" he cried, taking a step back.

"Don't be a fool, Morhan!" The other snapped, reaching out and snatching the candle from the other, almost causing the small flame to go out. The orange light of the candle under-lit their sweating faces, making them look like strange characters as the shadows continued to jumped and danced around them in the oppressive dark.

"Do you have any idea of how much that little trinket be worth? I'll- We'll be rich! The gold coin to be had for it! And we need not share it, for the others need not know of it!"

For several long moments Morhan seemed to debate with himself, his eyes flickering between Bastion and the limp Dwarf's direction before his greed finnaly overcame his underlying fear and better judgment. With a sigh he finally nodded his head, causing Bastion's ugly face to break out in a wide predatory smile.

"Good! Now come," the older Man said, slapping the younger Man on the arm before turning back and squatting next to the captive again, carefully setting the candle down and out of the way while Morhan came to stand by the post the Dwarf's chains where connected to.

It was during this time as the two hurriedly went about undoing the ropes, they never saw the "unconscious" Dwarf's eyelids flutter for a few moments before slowly opening, after a few blinks as awareness returned, those same brown orbs then narrowed and turned to peer at them through it's thick hair before closing them again.

After the ropes where undone, only the heavy chains remained, both Men paused to nervously check the prisoner again, making sure he was still unconscious, Bastion even going so far as to jab the Dwarf in the ribs, still getting no response.

"Give me the key!" Bastion whispered then, turning and impatiently holding his bony hand out to the other Man. Morhan hurriedly reached into a hidden pocket in his leggings and pulled out a small key that Lars had entrusted to him with before handing it over to the other, who all but snatched it.

"Now take hold of those chains and keep the tension on 'em as I undo the lock," he said, Morhan nodded his curly-haired head and did as told, taking hold of the chains attached to the Dwarf's thick wrist with a grunt. As he held up that thick limp arm, the shear weight of it, caused trepidation to once again creep into his heart, _maybe this wasn't such a good idea…_

There was rattle of chains and a rusted screech as the key was turned in the lock. For a moment both Men paused, waiting to see if there was any reaction, but the Dwarf remained limp and still, its breathing even.

Satisfied, Bastion flashed Morhan a wide grin, _his plan was working perfectly! They'd get the mithril armband, tie the Dwarf back up and non would be the wiser_. _Then all he had to do was put a knife in Morhan's back after this was all over and the mirthril was his!"_

As the younger Man dutifully kept the tension on the chains, Bastion finally unwound and detached the last of the heavy links from the wooden post and soon the end of the chains lay limp upon the dirt floor at their feet. The nervous Morhan during this time, continued to quietly hold the heavy chain with both hands, being careful of his wounded one, it was during this time that he happened to be looking at the Dwarf's broad limp hand in the low candlelight, finding himself marveling once again at the size of it- when that large limp hand suddenly clenched into a tight fist.

"There now, keep the tension while I slip thi--" Bastion never got to finish that for at that moment Morhan let out a squawk as he was suddenly yanked forward by the chains he held, slamming into the older Man before he was thrown across the dark room. The candle was knocked over and snuffed out plunging the room into darkness, the glowing embers from the hearth across the room now the only illumination. The darkness not hindering the clearly _not_ unconscious captive, who now hurriedly setting about freeing himself.

As Bastion got to his knees in the darkness, he heard the laud rattling of chains and a sharp grunt followed by the distinct dry sound of thick rope breaking and a pained hiss. The bald Man wasted no time, scrambling on hands and knees over to the hearth to grab one of the hot pokers still heating in the glowing embers, somewhere else in the darkness he could hear Morhan give a pained groan.

Stumbling to his feet, he whipped around with his improvised weapon, breaking out in a cold sweat, his heart giving a lurch of fright as the soft glow of the poker caught the glowing eyes of the Dwarf some eight feet away, its eyes glowing like a cats' in the darkness. His greed from just moments before was completely forgotten in the face of this new dilemma.

As his vision slowly adjusted to the darkness again he began to see more of the Dwarf's distinctive features in the ominous red light. He gave a harsh curse when he realized then that the five foot three being was now standing, clearly having broken the ropes around its legs as it now stood by other post he was still firmly shackled to. The nails still lodged in it's thighs clearly paining the prisoner greatly, the dark stains to be seen on his ripped an dirty leggings, it was then that the bald Man noticed something else and his heart lifted just a bit.

_The Dwarf was still chained_! If he just kept his distance, he was safe_. All he had to do was wait for the others to return!_" Bastion reassure himself, rivets of sweat dripping down his back and leathery face.

The Dwarf meanwhile only continued to glare at him, never taking it's large eerily glowing eyes from the ugly bald Man holding the poker, for several moments they simply faced one another in the oppressive darkness of the shed. Bastion felt confident that he was still safe with his improvised weapon and the Dwarf still partly chained a safe distance away. He was however completely unprepared when the Dwarf's eyes narrowed as it took a deep breath and suddenly spat a mouthful of blood at him across the distance with surprising accuracy, hitting the surprised Man right in the face. Bastion gave a yell of pain as the blood and saliva stung his eyes, causing him to drop the poker and hurriedly wipe at his face.

Unfortunately it was already too late when his ears finally caught the clinking of chains followed by a strange whirling noise. He just managed to look up when he realized what it was- when the Dwarf swing the heavy chains still connected to his free wrist out like a whip. His mouth opened to yell something as he attempted to fall back when the heavy links of the chain caught him in the side of the head, blood and several shattered teeth went flying as his skull fractured under the force of the improvised weapon, he was dead before he hit the ground.

Meanwhile a few feet away, Morhan, un aware of Bastion fate, had just come to and was in the process of spitting out a mouthful of dirt, his head spinning. He had finally propped himself up on his elbows when he heard movement behind him, his eyes snapped wide in fright as he mouth opened with a gasp as a large steel-like hand suddenly clamped around his ankle and he was dragged back across the dirt floor on his belly. In his sudden panic he clawed futilely at the hard packed dirt, the pain from his missing fingers momentarily forgotten in his panic. Still unable to see anything in the darkness of the shed he tried kicking out with his other foot, but it proved useless, for as suddenly as his ankle was grabbed it was released. But his moment of relief proved to be short-lived when he gave a undignified squeak as that same large hand suddenly clamped around his throat before bodily lifted him to his knees and he suddenly felt hot breath on his face.

"Release me! Or I'll crush your throat" said a deep frightening voice from the darkness in front of him. It was then that the Man realized that the Dwarf must have simply dragged him over to where it was still chained, in the low light he caught a brief glimpse of Bastion dark unmoving form laying nearby.

"I can't! I don't have the key!" cried Morhan, trying desperately to loosen the iron grip on his neck which proved useless.

"Where is the key?" growled the Dwarf, giving the human a sharp shake. Morhan could now see those flashing brown eyes and the outline of the prisoner above him in the low orange light of the hearth, most of the Dwarf's features lost in the darkness.

"I-I don't know!" he gasped around the big hand constricting his throat.

"Where is it?" the Dwarf snarled again in Morhan's now ashen face, flashing the human a wonderful view of his sharp white teeth, the two large canines seemed to shin especially bright in the low light.

The human just gaped at him wide-eyed like a fish, his heart thumping in his chest as panic set in. Then suddenly with his bandaged hand, Morhan slammed his fist down on the Dwarf's thigh as hard as he could, purposefully aiming for the nails he knew where still lodged there. There was a deafening bellow of pain that seemed to shake the very shed as he was released as the Dwarf reacted to the sudden agony in its leg, seizing his chance the curly-haired Man hurriedly scrambled away, his mind racing.

_The Dwarf was still chained, if he could just get far enough away! He'd be safe!_

However he did not crawl away fast nor far enough before the Dwarf had recovered and came after him again. For with a rattling of chains and a growl of rage the Dwarf was above him, poor Morhan didn't even have time to cry out or roll over before the Dwarf struck.

They're was a terrible crack as the copper-haired being stomped full force on the Man's back, purposefully aiming for the spine, the vertebrae giving several audible snaps as the Man was slammed into the floor and went limp on the dirt with his eyes and mouth still wide open like a puppet with it's strings cut.

It was a nasty tactic and normally Gimli wouldn't have used such vicious moves with humans, but these Men where beneath his contempt as he looked down at the limp body at his feet with no feeling, his smooth face seeming carved from stone. They where dishonorable, cruel and had showed him no mercy, so he showed them no mercy in return. With that done Gimli turned his attention once again to the chain still imprisoning his other arm.

For several moments he hurriedly searched around the floor as far as his bonds would allow for the missing key, but it remained allusive and he finally gave up, knowing he didn't have much time left. Swearing in Khuzdul, the ropes where easy enough to deal with, but the chains proved be his biggest problem and without the key he could not undo the lock connecting him to the post.

With a snarl he yanked and pulled uselessly at the heavy links, but still they would not budge, he felt the hot trickled of blood running down his clenched fist as the shackle bit cruelly into the flesh of his already bloody and chaffed wrist, but he would not give up.

_He had to free himself before the rest of those bastards came back and get to the palace and warn Aragorn of the traitor in his court and find out who sought Gondors destruction. And he could do none of that if he was dead!_

He continued to pull, teeth gritted, the coarse metal cutting into the palms of his large hands as he braced one foot against the post, the thick muscles of his arms straining, hoping to rip the chains' anchor from the wood itself. Yet while the chains where crude and rusted, they where sound and unwilling to break while the anchor stubbornly refused to be parted from the thick wood. Yet he knew he had to free himself, knowing none would come to his rescue as he caught a momentary glimpse of the rusted axe laying nearby, but just out of reach. It was up to him if he wanted to live to see another sunrise.

Seeing that it was useless to even try and break the chains, Gimli finally dropped them and turned his attention the post itself. With a deep breath he wrapped his strong arms around the thick post, he then firmly planted his feet, bent his knees and gave a silent prayer before he pulled with all his considerable strength.

Yet the post remained stubbornly planted, seeming not to budge as he stained, still he would not give up as he continued to pull, splinters of wood piercing the thick skin of his chest and arms.

"Mahal give me strength!" he cried harshly. "By all my great ancestors, I will not die in this place!" His eyes clamped tightly shut, his white teeth bared in a grimace of supreme effort, he pulled on all his reserves of energy. He threw his head back as thick muscles bulged and rippled under his tan skin, then in a feat of frightening strength he ripped the heavy post from it's deeply driven anchor, with an echoing roar of supreme defiance that seem to threaten to shake the very stars from the sky as he held it aloft in victory. For a brief moment time seemed to stand still as his heart flew for a moment as he held the post aloft, _he was free!_

Then with a heavy 'thunk' and a rattling of chains the thick post was dropped to the hard-packed dirt floor at his booted feet as the Dwarf stood there triumphant, his muscles aching, he eye closed as he turned his smooth face up to the heavens, sending a silent 'thank you' to Mahal before finally taking stock of his situation again. As he stood there he looked at the two bodies on the floor and then turned his gaze to the door in the other room, his eyes narrowing at the thought of Lars and the others returning soon.

"Kill your enemies or they will come back all the more vengeful," he said aloud to himself, quoting a the wise words of a strong Woman he had known many years ago as he stood there alone in the dark sweltering shed before hefting the heavy post over his shoulder like he would his axe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From a large crack between two warped boards in the badly constructed wall of the shed, a rich-brown almond-shaped eye watched in anticipation as three Men return with the cart and horse, watching them disappear momentarily as they put the cart away and tied the horse on the side of the shed and under the scraggly tree that grew there before walking back into view as they made their way to the door, laughing and joking with one another.

Gimli recognized Lars and the large form of Hesphyn, but he did not recognize the third Man bringing up the rear, most likely another thug friend of Lars' Gimli assumed. Whoever the new comer was he appeared to be holding something bulky in his left hand and carried something looped over his shoulder. Gimli however didn't have time to wonder about it before moving away and taking up a position before the doorway of the second room to greet them.

A moment later the door slammed open as they piled in. "Eh, Morhan, Bastion! We brought ya some wine!" Lars called out, hefting a bottle in his hand, apparently in a much better mood then when he had left.

"Hesphyn ate all the cheese though!" The new Man laughed, brushing a thick mop of long brown hair out of his face. He momentarily stumbled as Hesphyn shoved past him into the shed, slamming the door behind him.

"Shut your face, Holden!" The fat Man growled, shooting him a glare as he moved past Lars and further into the dark interior of the shed- and almost bumping right into the person standing there waiting for them in the second room.

The three immediately stopped dead in their track and fell silent when they saw their supposed prisoner standing there, holding one of the heavy posts he had been shackled to across his broad shoulders as if it weighed nothing, the two unmoving bodies of Morhan and Bastion to be seen behind him.

"Greetings!" Gimli said in a cheerful voice, a wicked smile on his bloody and bruised face. Then before any could even react, Hesphyn went flying as the Dwarf leapt forward with shocking speed and swung the long thick post off his shoulders and used it like a club, catching the over-weight Man in the gut and sending him crashing into the wall, causing a few of the wooden boards to brake as the large crumpled form slumped to the floor against the wall.

Watching Hesphyn go flying shook Lars into action, for with a curse the tall lanky-limbed Man hurriedly backed up and gave a series of curses, taking the wine bottle he held and throwing it at the Dwarf, who simply side-stepped it as he advance towards them, a feral look on his dirty face that was devoid of facial hair thanks to their previous actions days before. The new Man however only still stood there stunned, no doubt that this was defiantly not what he had expected when he took up Lars offer of an easy job at the local tavern.

"Give me that!" Lars snarled, snatching the bulky thing from the Man's limp grasp before he could react, shoving him back after grabbing, what Gimli now saw was a quiver from the new Man's shoulder before turning to the advancing prisoner. As he brought the large object up, it was then that Gimli finally saw what it was and his eyes went wide in immediate recognition as he halted.

_Crossbow!_

Necessity and adrenalin dulling the pain from the nails still in his legs and other injuries, Gimli turned and ran, post in hand and chains dragging behind him as he barely managed to dive behind the thin wall dividing the second room as Lars cocked the firing mechanism back and fired, the lethal bolt missing him and causing the lanky Man to swear.

Hearing the scraping sounds of Lars recocking the crossbow, Gimli took the opportunity to peak his head around the corner for a look, just in time duck it back as another bolt lodge it's self in the wood where his head had just been. Ready with another bolt, Lars began to walk cautiously forward, weapon at the ready, the other Man following.

"_Shit_!" Gimli hissed to himself, his back against the wall behind him. It was then that he spotted Morhan's body still laying on the floor nearby, that's when a plan began to form. Reaching out he dragged it over to him as he listened to the two Men come closer to his hidden position.

He needed Lars to spend another bolt, giving Gimli a valuable moment to carry out his idea, spotting the large bloody rock that Hesphyn had used to bash him in the head with earlier, he snatched it up then took a deep breath. It was a very common misconception by Men and Elves that Dwarves are slow, both in body and mind, and while greatly insulting it was actually something that the Dwarves had come to take advantage of throughout the many centuries. The element of surprise was such a valuable asset in battle, that most Dwarves where willing to put up with such ignorant slander, and those beings lucky enough to have lived through such an encounter with a Dwarf quickly and wisely put such old wise tails out of their minds.

Greatly daring, Gimli suddenly leapt out and threw the rock at Lars, who managed to duck it, the missile however caught Holden in the shoulder who was standing behind him, causing him fall back and cry out while Lars brought his weapon up again. Gimli dived back for cover, doing a quick roll, dragging his chains behind, the crossbow missing him by a hair to striking the far wall.

Then while Lars was hurriedly reloading another bolt, the Dwarf suddenly came charging out again, this time carrying the limp body of Morhan before him like a shield. In the moment of surprise Lars blindly shot, but the bolt only harmlessly hit the body the Dwarf carried, Lars gave a yell and threw the useless crossbow away as he attempted to dodge to the side as the Dwarf heaved up the heavy corpse he carried one handed and hurled it at him like a rag-doll.

With a heavy "Oughf!" Lars went down in a heap, the force of Morhan's body hitting him knocked the wind from his lungs as Gimli made a point of running over the top body and purposefully stepping on Lars' face with his heavy boot, causing him to cry out. Then, while Lars weakly struggled to get out from under the corpse of his friend, the Dwarf turned his rage to the only other human still standing, who at the moment was still holding his injured shoulder as he watched, mouth agape and wondering just what in Mordor he had gotten himself into.

Seeing the Dwarf coming at him, Holden pulled out a short-sword from his belt and attempted to stab his attacker, but the Dwarf easily countered the move by simply blocking his blade with the thick post he still carried. The sword lodged it's self harmlessly in the wood, then was twisted from his grasp as a large fist caught him in the face, braking his nose and loosening two of his teeth as he was knocked down. Managing to get his wits about him again, Holden painfully sat up to see the Dwarf looming over him.

Panicking and desperate the Man grabbed a handful of dirt and suddenly threw it in Gimli's face, causing him curse and step back as he was momentarily blinded while the Man scrambled up and made for the door. Holden managed to get out of the door and flew around the shed to where the horses and chart where still tied, running as if the Wear-wolves of Mordor nipped at his heels.

Gimli had just blinked the last bit of dirt from his eyes when he saw the Man's shadow through the boards of the structure as he ran for the horses on the other side of the shed. Seeing this and knowing he could never make it out the door in time to stop him, Gimli decided that he needed a more direct route.

Holden had almost made it to the horses when he gave a shout of surprise when the Dwarf suddenly burst through the wall of the shed in an explosion of broken boards in front of him, knocking him to the ground and causing the horses nearby to rear and dance on their leads in sudden fright.

For a moment the Dwarf stood there in the cool night air as the cloud of dust settled, the shattered bits of wood around him in the light of the moon shinning above, post in hand and dark eyes zeroed in on the gapping human in the dirt at his feet. Gimli unconsciously tensed at the sound of the horse's shrill trumpeting behind him, but when he saw the Man on the ground recover and hurriedly reach into his tunic for a no doubt hidden blade, Gimli's warrior instincts didn't even hesitate. Before the frightened Man could even pull his hand from his clothes- he let out a terrified scream as he saw the end of the thick post come rushing at his face, then all went black.

There was a horrible sound, like a crushed pumpkin followed by a gurgle and the sporadic rustle as the dead Man's limbs twitching for several moments before all was quiet again. Gimli stepped back and picked the post up again from where he had rammed it. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the messy 'squish' that use to be the Man's head and the bits of his face and skull now decorating the end of the thick post.

After that he took a moment to bend down and reached into the folds of the Man's tunic, sure enough he pulled out a large dagger the Man had been reaching for, with a snort Gimli got up and tucked the blade into his own belt, feeling a bit better for having a proper weapon now. With a weary glance at the two nervous animals nearby, who watched him in equal weariness, Gimli headed back into the dark shed, going through the large hole he made and leisurely walked into the second room.

Lars, who had finally managed to get out from under Morhan's corpse was trying to crawl over to the small hearth and get hold of some kind of weapon. A kick to the Man's ribs however quickly stopped his crawling and another harsh kick made the tall human roll onto his back with a pained groan, clutching at his wounded side.

Coming to stand over him, Gimli calmly kicked his arms aside, putting his heavy boots on Lars' long pale arms, causing him to hiss as they were harshly pinned to the dirt floor at his sides. Gimli then sat down on the lanky Man's stomach, knowing perfectly well how heavy his dense muscular body must be. His large flashing eyes never left the Man's pale sharp-featured face as one by one he went about pulling the small wedges of wood that Lars' himself had driven in the day before from under his fingernails with his sharp teeth. Making a point of spitting them in Lars' wincing and angry face until he was done with both hands, his fingers bloody. The Dwarf's smooth and bloody face seemed made of stone, having no expression, yet his dark eyes burned with barely contained inferno. Looking at him now few would recognize him as the same Dwarf that five days before that had been bickering with the elegant Legolas and grumbling at King Elessar for again not being included on a recent adventure with the King had taken with Legolas and Faramir on an eventful trip to the lands east of Ithilien. No, none that knew the copper-haired warrior at the palace would recognize Gimli now, only those that had known him before the War of the Ring and those unfortunate enough to have faced him during battle would know him.

"You had your chance, now it is mine." He said, glaring down at the Man while combing his long hair out of his badly bruised face again with one broad hand, tucking it behind a gold ringed ear. "Time for you to answer my questions." His voice rumbling like distant thunder, holding a quiet and deadly edge to it.

But Lars was not the kind to be so easily intimidated, "I will tell you nothing!" He sneer back, his thin chin jutted out defiantly.

"You will," came the cold reply.

Without another word the Dwarf moved one boot and grabbed the Man's left hand, Lars struggled as hard as he could, yanking and pulling with all his strength as the Dwarf brought it up, but it proved to be useless, the Dwarf's grip was that of stone. An insulting slap to the face, that made Lars see stars, also stilled any further struggling.

"Tell me what I want to know. Who is the Traitor working for, and who else is working for him," he tried again, his large broad hand now wrapped around Lars' smaller clenched fist. Lars was again reminded of how different this being was to him as he looked at his hand held in the Dwarf's calloused grip, his long fingered hand looked so small, almost child-like compared to the thick broad hand that seemed to dwarf his own.

"I will tell you nothing!" Came the hissed answer, still defiant even though his heart thundering in his narrow chest. How quickly roles had become reversed, _how had it gone so wrong?_

Without another word Gimli slowly began to tighten his grip on the hand he held, hearing the sickening snap and the grinding of bones while Lars threw his head back and howled as the Dwarf crushed his hand without any effort. Lars' body bucked and his long legs kicked at the dirt floor uselessly, but it was all for naught, for when Gimli finally released Lars' appendage it was nothing but a useless and mangled mass of flesh and crushed bones as the Man continued to cry and curse him.

"Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way," he told Lars who now held his useless and ruined hand to his heaving chest, his dark blood-shot eyes full of hate, tears streaming down his red face.

The Man swore and spat, but continued to refuse to tell him anything, even going so far as to sit up as far as he could and spit in the Dwarf's face.

"The hard way it is" Gimli said calmly, as he wiped the spit from his face with a broad dirty and blood-stained hand. Gimli reached behind him and took Holden's knife from his belt and studied it for a few moments, making sure Lars saw him doing so. The large blade was of good quality steel, but the workmanship was quite poor, the handle was that of simple twine wrapped wood. Then to let the human know he was serious, Gimli turned his eyes once again to his captive, he expertly twirled the blade for a moment- then stabbed it right through the Man's gut without a further word. Pinning the human to the dirt floor as he felt the body he sat on go instantly stiff.

Gimli then sat up and cocked his head while he peered down at the now very surprised and gapping Man, watching his gray-eyes bulge in their sockets and listening to his gurgled gasps of pain. For a few long moments he let the pain sink in, so Lars would understand exactly his situation was before finally breaking the silence again.

"Now then, human. You tell me what I want to know… and I kill you quick." He said simply, taking no pleasure from what he did. The trembling Man's eyes finally turned to stare up at him, wide-eyed and pale faced, his now bloody mouth stretched in a grimace of agony, snot flowing freely from his hooked nose.

"Or… I leave that nice knife in your belly… Then I'll brake your arms and legs and sit back and watch you slowly die." Gimli continued matter-a-factly, looking down at the wheezing and pale Man.

"Which might take you a day or more," the Dwarf add, cocking his head at him. For a long moment Lars stared up at him in disbelief, his thoughts running a mile a minuet, how quickly things came down the simplest of choices. _Is this what his victims had felt? Is this what they had faced? Where his thoughts now, the same as theirs had been, when they looked up at him, silently begging for release and mercy_?

The almond-shaped eyes above him glowed with such frightening fire, they held no mercy, yet oddly they did not shine with glee or pleasure either.

"Who is the Traitor working for?" Came the demand again, cold steel in those words. By the questions they had been trying to beat out of him earlier, Gimli knew that whoever Enriten was working for wished to have the easiest way for an army to breach the walls and gates, as well as the invaluable ability to sneak into the city undetected until it was to late for all those within to mount a defense.

Meanwhile Lars no longer had the will nor the strength to remain defiant, his world having narrowed to the agony in his abdomen and the simple and desperate want for it to stop.

"I-I know not! He only.. H-he only hired us…. to catch you and get the i-information he wanted, w-w-with a promise of a sack full gold c-ccoin and more. W-we knew he was trying to somehow overthrow King Elessar." He moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as the Dwarf seized him by the front of his tunic and brought his face up until it was mere inches from his own.

"Aye! Aye, but who?" Gimli growled in frustration. "He can not be working without some kind of backing, who are his masters?" The Dwarf demanded, giving the Man a shake, causing him to wail in pain before speaking again.

"I don't know!" he cried, piteously. "T-t-the little shit-t t-ttold us nothing els-s-se. I s-s-sware! I-I swear by t-the Valar!" Lars gasped exhausted, blood bubbling up in his mouth, turning his teeth pink as his stretched lips trembled.

For a long moment Gimli studies the Man in silence, trying to determine if he was lying or not before deciding that the Man spoke true. Clearly he would have to find out who Enriten was working for from Enriten himself. With a snort Gimli released the Man who fell limply back to the floor, moaning in pain while Gimli thoughts raced, he had to get back to the palace and warn Aragorn before Enriten learned of Gimli's escape and made a bid to escape himself. Once captured the dishonorable traitor could be interrogated about his mysterious backers as well as to see if their where any other spies in the King's court. Gimli then turned his attention to the wounded and moaning Man he was sitting on, _a deal was a deal_.

Lars dark eyes snapped open and his mouth let out a silent scream as the knife in his gut was suddenly wrenched free, only to be plunged directly into his heart. With a stiffening of limbs and a final high pitched wheeze all went dark as his life ebbed under the watching eyes of the silent Dwarf above him, who watched as two defiant tears slid down Lars' pale staring face.

After a long moment of silence in the dark shed, Gimli finally got up off Lars' corpse, tiredly running a hand over his filthy face as he closed his eyes. He did not like what he did here, but he would not let his honor be so besmirched by these foul Men and had taken his rightful retribution, now with his honor restored he needed to warn Aragorn. At the thought of his friends however he felt a frown come over his face, a tight feeling clench in his gut, _you needed them and they didn't come_…_They didn't even care that you where gone! _A small malicious voice whispered in the back of his mind before he quickly pushed it away, but he could not deny the hurt that settled like a heavy stone in his belly.

As he stood there with his dark thoughts, he failed to notice Hesphyn who he had forgotten about, quickly coming up behind him with a raised knife in hand. The large Man having finally recovered from Gimli previous blow some moments before, having quietly watched the Dwarf dispatch Lars and trying to take advantage of the Dwarf's obvious distraction. Luckily for Gimli however the overweight human accidentally tripped over the very stone he had used to bash Gimli in the head with earlier.

Hearing this, Gimli instinctively moved, managing to throw himself to the side as the knife slashed him across his broad back in a glancing blow instead of plunging directly into it, causing him to grit his teeth in pain as he spun away in a defensive crouch. Going unnoticed, the heavy post still connected to his one wrist was yanked across the room by the Dwarf's sudden move and got caught against one of the two posts still lodged in the dirt floor. So it was when Gimli instantly sprang forward at the human with a angry growl, his broad fist pulled back, while his other easily knocking the knife from the Man's pudgy hand. He was suddenly brought up short as the chain suddenly went taunt, causing Gimli's broad fist to suddenly stop mid-air, mere inches from the understandably terrified and wincing Hesphyn's face.

Luck on his side and not wasting an opportunity, Hesphyn turned and flew for the door, disappearing out into the cool night a moment later, his foot steps beating a hurried tempo away as the enraged and cursing Dwarf hurriedly dislodged the post.

Snarling, heart burning like a fire-storm and heavy post now in hand, Gimli burst out the door a moment later, knocking it off it's hinges as he went after the limping and wheezing Man. Unfortunately, Hesphyn had far to great of a lead on him, adrenalin and panic giving his feet extra speed as he raced away past the piles of gathered stone and wood, in the deserted area, the mountain and dividing walls of the city looming over them. Gimli many injuries and exhaustion slowed him down too much and seeing it was useless, Gimli finally came to a stop as he watched the huffing Man get further away.

"You better run Fat Man! Cause when I catch you, I'M GONNA CUT OFF YOUR FUCKING HEAD AND STICK IT ON A PIG-POLE!" Gimli angrily bellowed after the fleeing Man, shaking the post he held before throwing it to the ground in frustration. This unfortunately was followed by him letting out a yelp of pain as his sore and bleeding wrist was harshly yanked as he was jerked forward, having forgotten that he was still attached to said post.

Cursing his own stupidity, he took a deep frustrated breath before picking the heavy blood-stained post up again with a tired grumble, putting it over his broad shoulder like he would his axe, then wincing again at the renewed pain in his wrist and the burning cut across his back as he turned his attention back to the place that had been his prison.

As he stood there glaring back at the dark shed as a breeze played with his long lose hair, contemplating just what he should do next- it was then that a forgotten body function made it's self known, loud and clear. His bladder demanding immediate attention Gimli quickly hurried back to the shed. Noticing Holden's sprawled body by the large hole in the side of the shed he had made, he shrugged to himself and came to stand over it. Setting the post against the wall of shed, he quickly undid his belt then let out a deep sigh of relief as he finally relieved himself. After his long leisurely piss, he tucked himself away and redid his belt as he turned his back on the now wet and quite pungent corpse and walked back into the shed. It was time to get rid of the large thick post he was still attached to.

A moment later he had freed himself with the rusted axe that Lars had planed to use on him. With two mighty blows that caused sparks to fly, he broke the heavy links of the chain. With the excess chains still connected to his wrists he simply wrapped them around his thick forearms, he then made a point of breaking the wooden haft of the axe, making sure the already rusted axe was completely useless now.

With that he walked out of the of the shed through the large hole he made, leaving the bodies of his enemies behind as walked back out into the night, free and victorious. A soft wicker from nearby however made him pause and turn his head as brushed his long copper hair out of his eyes again.

Nearby were the two horses the Men had used, still tied up under the small scraggly tree on the far side of the small shed. The old gray nag still hitched to the cart, didn't even look up, her long pale face down, her soft wrinkly muzzle only a few inches from the ground, the picture of tired misery. The young brown gelding that was in desperate need of a good grooming beside her however watched the Dwarf in interest, his pointed ears perked as he gave another wicker, almost seeming to plead to come along.

For a moment Gimli was going to continue on, he didn't like horses, but after a moment he decided that he could not leave them. He may be weary of horses, but in a odd way he and these two animals shared a common experience, for they too had clearly faced abuse at the hands of those dishonorable Men by the look of them and so Gimli found that he didn't not have the heart to leave them there in such a state. A humorous thought struck him then, how many Elves and Men think of Dwarves as mere grumpy beasts of burden? And no more intelligent then other such simple four-legged animals?

Perhaps he shared more in common with these animals then he originally thought? _Well the least I could do is help free my fellow beast_, Gimli joked to himself.

With a rueful snort, he walked over and went about detaching the poor old nag from the heavy cart before taking off her reins and bridal, tossing the heavy leather tack to the ground. That done he turned to the other horse and did the same, after a few moments both animals stood free, seeming confused as to what to do next. That done with Gimli gave the brown gelding's flank a few friendly pats as his gaze turned up to the first ring of the city, the proud ivory-like palace to be seen even from this miserable place on the lowest ring of the city, full of light and splendor, the stars twinkling above.

His dark eyes narrowed in determination as he listened to the quiet around him, the muted sounds of the city somewhat muffled by the mountain and night air. _He had to get back to the palace and tell Aragorn about the traitor in his court. Then find that little weasel and kill him!_

With that Gimli turned and began the slow arduous walk back towards the palace, the two horses seem to hesitate for a few moments before slowly following after the limping Dwarf who ignored the two equines that now plodded tiredly along behind him.

_Working on the next part as we speak ._

_Yes, Gimli can be very charming when he wishes, but do NOT mess with him unless you want to live! I decided that since so many people simply don't really care what happens to Gimli, heck. Most fics don't even include him. I decided to just have Gimli just rescue himself! _


	4. Chapter 4

I must humbly apologize to all those who have been so patiently waiting for the next part of this fic, Thank you all so much! But because of some unforeseen circumstances I will not be continuing it. The last three chapters of "Masks" I had saved to a disk, has been erased thanks to using someone else's laptop and getting a virus . Its all gone, all that work down the drain, I don't even have the chapters I already posted anymore. I was able to salvage a few other stories I've been working on and I made sure to scour through all my other files and disks, but that was my only copy after my last computer crash. "_Masks_" is gone, plain and simple. I just don't have the patience, time or the drive to type it all down again, no matter how much I want to.

When it comes to writing LOTR fics with Gimli or Dwarves as the central character(ers) I found it a very tiring up-hill battle. It's not so much the writing or the understanding of his character (Gim's is still my favorite after all) or even the low interest and comments I've come to expect from most of the LOTR fandom when it comes to my fav Dwarf. And nothing is wrong with that! I know most people just prefer Legolas and Elves, nothing wrong with that. One need only ask even most G/L shippers and most of them (if their being honest ) are simply more interested in Legolas. Just read most of the fics out there, even most of the L/G fics ones and you'll see that most revolve around Legolas someway, be it through the elf-angst or continuous detailed descriptions of him and how wonderful he is, with Gimli there as a side order. I can't tell how many times I've read a scene where the author goes on and on about how wonderful Legolas is and how ethereal, thin, beautiful, wise, deadly, graceful, ect, ect,ect. Oh, and Gimli was there too. Its especially funny when its a sex scene!

"_Legolas moved and undulated in the moonlight, his fair smooth skin like milk, his glowing and half lidded eyes seeming to change from deep sapphire, to the rolling blue of the sea, to the that of a storm summer sky. His long silken hair falling about his face in a halo of sunlight as petal pink and plump lips gasped with breathy moans. A vision of lithe beauty, his long elegant arms holding onto the stocky body above him, as he threw his head back in pleasure, revealing the long ivory column of his throat.  
Gimli could only gape in awe as he watched this enchanted being, marveling at what no artist could ever hope to achieve as he grasped that slender form to his own short hairy form."_

laughs I've come to except this long ago and if I _was_ writing only for reviews and for people to fawn over my fics or fanart, I'd probably draw a lot more of Legolas or other Elves. But I'm not in this fandom for that, I want to draw and write what _I'm_ interested in- and most of the time that's Gimli and other Dwarves . Even if, as a wise woman once told me (Love you Soledad!) "_You end up writing for your desk_." There is just so much left to explore when it comes to Dwarves, all these wonderful things that Tolkien left out that we as the fans can explore. Men and Elves, there is a ton of stuff out there! When it comes to Dwarves there's tons of unexplored territory.  
The problem that I find one of the most frustrating is when I do want to post a story- I CAN'T FIND A BETA! I've gone through so many beta reader its not even funny (sob I miss my beloved beta- reader Little My so much), and the ones I do get- it's like pulling teeth! I've had some people volunteer then simply disappear after reading it. As I'm sure that many of you who have been reading my stories know, for the last year or so I haven't been able to get anyone to beta for my fics at all and have been forced to post them as such.  
At least the last one (who will remain anonymous) had the decency to email me back tell my why she was no longer interested in beta-ing my story. She said that she originally wanted to help me because her favorite pairing was L/G, but she was disappointed that I didn't have more with Legolas, who she admitted she was more interested in. And though she likes Gimli... she preferred stories that revolved around Legolas, so in turn she was disappointed in my story, which was predominately Dwarf-angst, torture, hurt, for a change. Well at least she told me the truth, right? And there the original ending to "Masks" still up.  
Another reason I won't try and re-write "Masks" is... I hate to say it... I'm exhausted and my Gimli-muse is being a complete brat and wont talk to me anymore. But! Because I can't stand it when people quite a fic when I've been waiting and wanting to know what happens next, just email me and I'll tell how the rest of the story would have gone.  
And if anyone wants to continue this fic on their own, your more then welcome! This fic is officially up for adoption! Again I'm terrible sorry, and I promise that I'm working on some other fics.


End file.
